


Mistext

by tamagoyaki



Series: What a small, fucked up world we live in. [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, ヒプノシスマイク | Hypnosis Mic (Albums)
Genre: And Xanxus' trash talk now I suppose, Another Xover Fic, Good Ol' Days where TDD are happy, M/M, Rated T due to Samatoki's language, Skip to C4 for Vongola in Action, Skip to C5 for Samatoki's fucked up life, Told from the eyes of Sawada Tsunayoshi, or are they?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagoyaki/pseuds/tamagoyaki
Summary: It begins with a single mistext.[Hayato, do you think you could make a trip down to Kaa-san’s place? I would kill for her omelettes now.][Wrong number, kid. I’m not Hayato.]Somehow, the Yakuza and the Mafiaso make friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 
>     Inspired by [Pls-txt-me-bby](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11346425/1/Pls-txt-me-bby) by Hweianime
>     
>     
>     *Disclaimer: None of the pictures and links used in the notes of this fic belongs to me.*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 
>     The yakuza and the mafiaso text.

* * *

I. Mistext

* * *

 

In his defence, it’s been a full six months since he last set foot in his motherland.

Engulfed by yet another wave of paperwork set loose on him by a smirking tutor (oh, _why_ did he ever accept this job?), Sawada Tsunayoshi’s on the brink of snapping as he peers down at blurry words through strained eyes. Three days without sleep and just caffeine certainly is doing him no favours. He can’t remember what his bed feels like with how often he’s sent around the country. But as the demon tutor loves to say – “You’ve got sun flames in there, somewhere. Work them.” Tsuna still can’t decide whether it’s for the better that he has them. (Being healed by Reborn seems like a contending reason for defeating the opposition.)

Rubbing dazed eyes, Tsuna sighs as he leans back in the uselessly grand office chair. Come to think of it, where is the usual call for a lunch break? Hayato would usually come in at this time with equally befuddled eyes -… Ah, but he sent Hayato back to the Japan base three days back. He forgot.

Fishing out his phone, Tsuna feels a tell-tale itch in his mouth. Ah, what wouldn’t he give for some of Mama’s food at a stressful time like this…? His impossibly useless Dad will certain be there to add a few dozen letters passive-aggressively requesting for his reinstatement, but that’s the usual. At the very least, it’d provide a conversation topic for the next meeting he has with Xanxus. Anything’s better than facing the muddled words before him right now……

He types in the long-memorized number absently.

[Hayato, do you think you could make a trip down to Kaa-san’s place? I would kill for her omelettes now.]

He closes his eyes to the familiar thrum behind his head, waiting for a quick reply.

Sure enough, his phone buzzes not even three seconds later.

[ _Wrong number, kid. I’m not Hayato._ ]

Tsuna blinks dazedly. Then, he jolts, realizing he’d typed the last digit wrongly. Despite Reborn’s gruelling training, he feels himself flush with embarrassment.

[omg, I’m so sorry I got the wrong number!]

[ _Don’t worry bout it. I would kill for some omelettes now too._ ]

Comes the reply immediately thereafter.

Pleasantly stunned by the response, Tsuna chuckles into a hand, rubbing his temple.

[If I’m not wrong, it’s about 9pm over at Japan right now, isn’t it? It’s not healthy to skip meals, stranger-san. You should go get an udon or ramen near your street.]

[ _Who’re you to lecture me?_ ]

[ _Wait. Fuck. This message’s coming from overseas, isn’t it? What shitty country are you from?_ ]

That’s one way to ask.

[Italia.]

[ _Fuck._ ]

Tsuna muffles a delirious laugh behind a hand. Oh geez, his mind really has got to be scrambled if he’s laughing at a vulgarity like this. And here he thought he’s finally accustomed to Varia-levels of bad words. It’s kinda funny though, coming from a stranger who’s not pointing an X-gun in his face or has a glass of red wine ready to be lurched at him _or_ shouting ‘VOI’s at him, fingering knives, deadpanning at the “baby boss”—

[ _What the hell am I going to do about the phone bills, huh?_ ]

Hm… That’s true. Tsuna frowns. He doesn’t want to make a stranger pay for his mistake.

[How about you provide your account number? I’ll transfer the sum to you]

[ _Hell no. Haven’t you heard about the scam that’s been going around? How would I know you’re not gonna empty out my account?_ ]

…Good point. (Shoichi _is_ capable of and _has_ done that.)

[Then, could you provide an address where you can meet? My friend who is in Japan will come and meet you to pay in cash.] He hasn’t even finished reading through his own message when his phone buzzes with a reply.

[ _Fuck you._ ] Tsuna frowns. Now, that’s just rude. [ _How do I know you’re not someone out to put a knife in my back?_ ] And that? That’s paranoia right there.

[…What do you suggest then?] Tsuna pouts. He’s mildly affronted by this other guy messaging him across continents, but anything’s better than dealing with paperwork. _Urgh._

[ _Make a reverse tab in all Takesushi branches in Yokohama. I’ll consider it settled with that._ ]

Tsuna blinks at his phone’s screen incredulously. Really? What sort of debt does he owe this guy? And how much does he like Takeshi’s restaurant? That _has_ got to be a joke.

[You do realize that’s going to cost a lot more than this conversation, right?] Tsuna texts faintly.

[ _Yes, Captain Obvious._ ]

[ _Now, do it before the yakuza comes knocking on your doors on your next trip to Japan._ ]

[You…I’m so going to use you as my personal life counselor henceforth.] Tsuna grumbles, sighing into a palm. It’s not like he doesn’t have an excess of money in his pocket, but still. (What an interesting person.) [I’m definitely spamming the life out of you daily. Now, before I go make some arrangements to settle my debt, is there any name I can refer to you by, so the staff could recognize you?] Now, of course, Tsuna _could_ always provide a codeword instead of fishing for a name, but where’s the fun in that?

[ _Sama._ ]

… _Man,_ he’s secretive.

[Really?]

[ _Yes, really. Now, scram. I’ll make you pay if you make a fool of me._ ]

 

* * *

 II. Sushi

* * *

 

[ _It works._ ]

…States the message which Tsuna finds himself squinting at in the quietness of Vongola Decimo’s bedroom at two in the morning.

[ _Who the fuck are you?_ ]

Tsuna rubs his temples and calmly decides this conversation’s at least better than the other one he’s having. (Honestly, really, Mukuro? _Really?_ The assigned mission is to go _incognito_ to gather up the scraps of information at Volpe’s ball to see what that sneaky famiglia is planning – not traumatize everyone and run the entire mansion to the ground! Chrome is _not_ helping. He really just doesn’t need another vivid description of the fine details of how Mukuro _digs his trident into the belly of the boss, pulling out entrails that glide gracefully through the air, and laughs delightedly through the splatters of warm blood raining down on them -_ except it’s all alright because it’s not real! Everyone there is still alive, if only slightly traumatized! …Tsuna _really_ doesn’t want to contemplate where he went wrong again, not after the last time he sent them both to therapy.)

Instead, Tsuna smiles and messes with the civilian.

[I am Sawa.]

[ _Fuck you._ ]

[You certainly have a huge vocabulary bank, don’t you?] He can’t remember if this is the second or third time he’s receiving that phrase. The next reply he gets makes him slightly sympathetic, however.

[ _I just woke up naked in Shibuya with my team knocked out around me, equally naked. I can’t deal with this._ ]

Tsuna frowns.

[How did you get from Yokohama to Shibuya-?]

[ _Don’t. Ask._ ]

A pause. Then, a miserable continuation.

[ _Our assigned driver had whiskey tossed in his face._ ] Tsuna imagines him rubbing his face in repentance. [ _And to make it worse, now I just have to wake up to this shitty bright studio that the devil insists on working in. The phone’s literally the only safe thing to look at right now._ ]

Tsuna can’t think of what to say.

No, actually he knows what to say.

[I’m going to owe my friend a large amount of money, aren’t I?] He sighs, facepalming. Well, at least the money’s going to Takeshi, who’ll translate it to more deluxe sushi over Vongola’s New Year party. [You deserve this, you horrible, irresponsible drinker. I hope you suffer more with more neon tossed in your eyes.] That’s typed teasingly of course, because Tsuna really doesn’t mind a dip in his pay check. It barely puts a dent in his savings.

[ _Fuck. Because of you, I just touched something I shouldn’t_ ]

What? He blinks. …Actually, on a second thought (and conveniently remembering at Sama’s associates are naked too), he doesn’t want to know.

[ _I’m definitely gonna kill you when I get my hands on you someday._ ]

Tsuna can almost hear the grumble and the curse in there.

He smiles, amused at the threat coming from this civilian.

[Find some aspirin and drink some water, Sama-san. It’ll make you feel better.]

[ _You don’t need to tell me._ ]

A few seconds of pause during which Tsuna decides to go back to the chatgroup labelled ‘Everyone’ (but is actually, just inclusive of Tsuna’s guardians and not everyone _everyone_ ). He blinks curiously at the voice recording Kyoya has sent, a rising sense of trepidation trickling in as his Hyper Intuition screams at him not to do it. Tsuna, being the thrice damned Vongola Boss he is (first by his Dad, second by Reborn, third by Nono), of course presses it.

The screams and cries that engulf his room at once are not too unexpected.

Tsuna stops the audio, peeks at the timeframe – 12 _goddamned_ hours – and can’t decide if he should drench his pillow tonight with tears again or run all the way to both Australia _and_ Finland to haul back his feisty guardians.

[ _Let’s be serious though._ ]

Tsuna can’t press the popping message quick enough.

[ _Who the fuck are you?_ ]

Ah, the relief of having a civilian to pin his sanity down. Even if his vocabulary’s as bad as the next enemy Tsuna has had, it’s at least less violent than Kyoya or Mukuro.

[I’m just the friend of a friendly neighbourhood sushi restaurateur.]

[You can call me Sawa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.]

[ _Fuck it all with these bastards, each and every one of them screwing with me…_ ]

Funny he’d say that, because that’s exactly how Tsuna feels like at the moment.

[But seriously. I’m not messing with you.]

[Sawa is my name, shortened down. It’s a coincidence yours is so similar to mine.]

[ _…Alright._ ]

[What’s wrong?] It feels weird to have a message that’s not cursing him. Tsuna thinks he might have to leave the reconsideration of his acquaintances to the 7AM Tsuna though, when he’s in the mood to agonize about it.

[ _It feels weird not to have you messing around with me._ ] Sama admits.

Tsuna chuckles at how their lines of thoughts intersect.

[Was the sushi good?] He questions.

[ _It was fine. Might be better if there were snacks other than fish though._ ]

[It’s a SUSHI restaurant.]

[ _I had the most immature adult in a child’s body bouncing around, demanding sugar. What else do you expect me to say?!_ ]

Tsuna thinks of Reborn and winces.

[You have a point.]

Speak of the devil and he’ll appear. Tsuna sees Reborn’s name popping up at the top of his screen, having sent a picture of his own into the _Everyone_ group chat. Tsuna wants to sob. That’s right. He forgot he sent Reborn to India too. He doesn’t want to know what kind of damage Reborn did there too. Everybody seems to be competing for the title of Who’s-gonna-make-Tsuna’s-life-worse and Reborn has always been the contender in that.

[I’m going to sleep now. Good night, Sama-san.]

He puts down his phone, curling into his bed just in time to miss the replying message.

[ _It’s Samatoki-sama to you, Sushi-brat. Tell me your real name in the morning._ ]

 

* * *

 III. Identities

* * *

 

[Good morning, Samatoki-san. Or should I say good afternoon due to the time differences…?]

[ _Brat._ ]

Tsuna smiles, feeling more settled (so long as he doesn’t peek at the groupchat).

[That’s not a greeting, Samatoki-san. How do you know if I’m younger in the first place?]

[ _Like hell I owe you an explanation._ ]

[I’m 21, if you want to know.]

[ _I never asked in the first place._ ]

Hm… He’s really in a bad mood. Tsuna wonders if it’s because of any drunken incidents, migraines and possible group sex included of course. (He smoothly navigates around the thought of what being accustomed to _that_ kind of thing says about him. He’s long since come to terms with the image people around him have of him. …Maybe if he says that enough, he’ll start to believe it…?)

[ _You owe me a name, Sushi-Brat._ _And it’s not Sawa._ ] The other man reminds.

Tsuna smiles warmly at the offer of meal with a meek “H-Have a good meal, Decimo” and dips his head in appreciation. The new maid colours and squeaks, dashing away to join the others. She, like every other servant in the mansion, has regrettably been influenced by Hayato’s obsession. He mentally takes note to learn her name at a later time.

[My name is Sawada, Samatoki-san. I can’t give you my first name though, since you might come knocking on my doors the next time I fly home.] He carves neat slices from the omelette. [Who knows if you’re a mass murderer or a scammer?] He adds teasingly, even though he reckons he’s already been cheated a fair bit.

[ _Smart little shit. So, what’s a kid like you doing miles away from Japan?_ ]

…And that’s where Tsuna’s steps stutter, because he’d always hated lying.

[…How do I know you’re not going to use my reason to track me down?] He feigns suspicion. There’s no way a civilian could do that, of course. It’s better to dodge than to lie.

[ _Alright. That’s getting irritating._ ]

[Haha] Dry laughter.

[ _Stop it._ ]

…Looks like there’s no way around it.

[I’ll be frank with you, Samatoki-san, but it’s best if we stop corresponding from now on.]

Orange bleeds into brown as he toys around with a cherry tomato. _Not_ unbeknownst to him, the chef looking through the peek hole fusses and worries. Tsuna stabs the tomato and props it between his lips, offering an apologetic smile at the statue-slash-secret-camera. The tingling on his senses falters with the chef’s ebbing anxiety. (He swoons, instead.)

On the long table, his phone buzzes.

[ _Someone after you, brat?_ ]

He contemplates on it.

[…Somebody’s _always_ after me.] He reveals, knowing Reborn would kill him if he finds out about this. Half-truths are always encouraged but at the same time, you never offer information to a stranger after all. (Mafia Wisdom.)

[ _Heh. What a coincidence. We’re a perfect match._ ]

Tsuna blinks down incredulously at his phone. Another message’s soon pushes up the previous bubble.

[ _I’m a part-time host down at Shinjuku. What of you?_ ]

Tsuna isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

[That’s…definitely a lie, isn’t it?] No way is someone with language of that level a _host_ unless they’re Xanxus. And even then, the world would crumple in on itself before Xanxus lowers himself to that status. (Sure, he’d be the one visiting the red-light district though. No, people would be begging him to visit. And he’d feed them a mouthful of his flame of wrath instead of his d. Xanxus has class, damn it.)

[ _There was never a freaking memo about how our convo has to be all truths, kid._ ]

[ _You not being aware of that makes you precisely that: A snot-nosed brat without hair on his ass._ ]

Tsuna is both moved and affronted.

[That part about hair on the ass is not necessary, is it?]

[ _Heh! Why? Did I hit the nail on the head?_ ]

[…I don’t know your true name, but I know for a fact that you’re a true asshole.] Tsuna shoots back, a bit miffed.

[ _Ha! Now, we’re talking._ ]

[ _So, what’s your cover?_ ]

[I’m a Japanese sent over to Italy to be trained as a mafia boss.] Blatant truths are sometimes the most overlooked. [I’m also apparently now a sugar daddy to a man who calls himself Samatoki in Japan. Or should I say, a sugar baby, since you’re older than me…?] That’s a term even he winces at.

[ _Oi. Don’t push it, kid._ ]

[Haha. What’s _your_ cover, Samatoki-san?]

[ _It’s Samatoki-_ sama _to you, kid. And I never said I’d reveal my occupation to you._ ]

[That’s unfair, considering I took the time to make up a cover.] Tsuna argues.

[ _Newsflash. The world’s never fair, kid. Better grow some hair on that smooth ass of yours and learn to stop whining about each and everything._ ]

[…You’re never going to let that go, are you?] Tsuna grumbles.

[ _You’ve got that right at least._ ]

The conversation makes that morning’s breakfast a little lonesome. (Or at least, until the door’s slammed down again by the combination of Lambo and Onii-san who decide it’s time to return from their impromptu training trip to the Bovino Famiglia’s headquarters. Then from there, Tsuna has his hands full trying to grapple for solutions to deal with the Kyoya-Mukuro-Reborn situation.

The Tenth’s guardians return to some rather interesting rumours of their boss possibly having a crush on someone with the way he was chuckling and smiling at his phone. They interrogate the lesser known Millefiore Boss while holding the Shimon Boss at gun point.)

 

* * *

 IV. Friends

* * *

 

[You’re the only sane person I have in my social circle.] Tsuna would whimper at the man if he’s here, but Samatoki’s thankfully spared from his brand of insanity.

[ _What the actual fuck?_ ]

Tsuna settles into his chair, making himself as comfy as possible – _as possible_ , he repeats, with the burns on his office’s walls and half the office torn down. Tsuna has relocated himself to the only safe place where he’d be safe from his guardians’ antics (and them likewise from a pyromaniacal boss): his bedroom. The paperwork follows him into the space.

[I’m pulling out my counsellor card, because I get the feeling you’d understand.]

After all, if Samatoki has friends who drag him from Yokohama to Shibuya, _wasted_ , and wakes up _naked_ around him – surely, _surely_ Tsuna’s not the only one with strange friends?

[ _It’s fucking 1 in the morning over here._ ]

[ _Piss off._ ]

Tsuna drops his face into his paperwork.

It’s five minutes before his phone buzzes again.

[ _What’s your problem, brat?_ ]

Tsuna breathes and types rapidly into the message box.

[My friends, Samatoki Sir.] He hopes the weight of his words are conveyed through their tone.

[ _It’s Samatoki-_ SAMA _to you. Don’t make me repeat myself._ ]

[My friends tore down half my office.]

[ _…Well, ain’t that the norm?_ ]

Tsuna wants to cry. He wants to bawl into his Mom’s skirt like he used to, because there’s no way this friend is just like the others, right? Right?

[As in, literally.]

[The wall’s completely blown off.]

[There are burns everywhere.]

[…I’m pretty sure the gaping hole in the ground reaches the first floor too.]

[ _…Well, I’ll be damned._ ]

[Right?] _RIGHT?!_

[ _Still, I think the world’s fucked if you think I’m the sanest in anyone’s social circle._ _Usually, I’m the one who has to be held back by the responsible ones in the group._ ]

[ _You’re pretty pitiful actually, if you think that way._ ]

Tsuna drops his head onto the desk with a pathetic whine. He lifts it up and slams it down multiple times in a row. But. The. World. Just. Won’t. Fade!

[ _Just calm your shit down and think clearly already. Remind yourself of the good times you’ve had with these friends of yours._ ]

Tsuna lifts his head and pauses mid-slam. Samatoki appears to be lost in his own memories.

[ _Think about the kid who you had to protect from the bullies, standing up for ya that first time._ ] Ah, come to think of it, Lambo _has_ returned home with a bloody nose multiple times, huffing about how the kids in school ‘started it first’. [ _Even though he’s still the biggest pain in the ass you’ve ever had, tossing himself head first into danger._ ] Samatoki adds almost fondly.

[ _Think about the times your pals have went along with the fights you started and stayed there to fix your wounds._ ] Onii-san and Hayato and Takeshi… They’ve always been the first to leap in with him. [ _Regardless of how much motherfucking trouble they become when they turn drunk._ ] Gh-! The image of a drunken illusionist jumping into his mind is decidedly unappreciated.

[ _Think about that jerkass friend of yours who always bounce around, creating noise._ ] Reborn… [ _Did he ever help out? Actually, no wait. That bastard has always been nothing but a pest!_ ]

[Samatoki-san!]

Tsuna wails into his arms. Why did he stop the momentum there? And just when Tsuna was finally able to see a ray of light breaking through too!

[ _Sorry, brat. My pals as you call them have been nothing but assholes since the beginning. We might just be in the same boat afterall._ ] Tsuna imagines Samatoki patting him on the shoulder.

[You’re one to say! Tell that to my savings, you sugar baby!]

[ _You… I’m_ so _tearing you from limb to limb when I see you for the first time._ ]

As it turns out, Tsuna has no actual friends with an ounce of sanity in their heads.

 

* * *

 V. Falling out

* * *

 

[ _I hate them, each and every single on foe them._ ]

Tsuna receives one day.

[…Samatoki-san?]

[ _Like I’ve told you so many times, cakl me Shamatoki-SAMA!_ ]

[Are you… perhaps… drunk?]

He’s definitely drunk.

[ _Fuck you._ ]

At least he’s still able to type that correctly.

[ _I h… I hate every single one ofthem._ ]

[ _Did so much for those fucked up assholes…and see wha they do? Turn their backs on the man at once. Especially that shitty brat… I’m killing him one of these days._ ]

[ _Ramuda tat little shit too… hiding things from ume… Sensei tho… Sensei’s not to bad._ ]

[ _But he’s never enough_.]

 _I’m never enough,_ Samatoki seems to say, and even though they’re miles apart without ever having seen each other’s faces before, Tsuna aches for him all the same. (They’re friends now, right? They’re friends, he’s certain, and he’ll insist, because he knows the other will forever deny it if he doesn’t.)

[Samatoki-san.] Tsuna types delicately, or at least tries to pass off his tone as delicately as possible.

[Where are you right now?]

[ _At a bar now… Whatsit matter to you…_ ]

[ _Yer gonna leave anyways…_ ]

[I’m not.] He’s this close to calling him, and he would, if the unfamiliarity of his voice wouldn’t startle the other. If just a recording of his voice doesn’t compromise his entire famiglia. (Even if friends _are_ famiglia.) [We’ve never met in the first place, right? Not to mention, I’m in Italia, so how can a person who’s never there leave?] He reasons with brutality that’d resonate with the rough Samatoki and patience that comes from dealing with a drunk Mukuro one too many times.

[ _youre right_ ]

[Aren’t I?]

He smiles through his worry.

[Now, please pick yourself up and go to the washroom.]

[ _What for???_ ]

[Just do it.]

He waits several seconds.

[Clean your face with some water. Are you still there, Samatoki-san?]

[ _Don’t call me Shamatoki-san. It’s SAMA!_ ]

Mh. He’ll be fine if he’s pointing out that little detail.

[Okay, okay!]

[Samatoki-sama, are you more sober now? Let’s get you back on your way home, okay?]

[ _Don’t treat me like a brat, Sushi-Brat._ ]

[I’m not!]

He is.

[Stay with me on the phone while you’re walking back, ‘kay?]

[Tell me more about yourself now. Like-] erm. [-how old are you?]

[ _Shitty question. First thing you can get out of me when I’m like this and its age?_ ]

Tsuna sighs, exasperated. As expected of the other to nitpick about something like this too.

[Oh, I don’t know. To be honest, I’ve actually been imaging an old man in his mid-thirties on the other side of the line this whole time?] He hasn’t, of course. (Pre-assumed theories would only muddle the mind.)

[ _I’m 25. And I’ll squash you into mince meat the day I see you._ ]

…Even his threats sound miserable over the messages.

[ _If I ever see you._ ]

Pops up the message Tsuna doesn’t want to see but can’t un-see. Mind stuck on that line, orange-brown eyes remain fixated on the words for a long time, thumbs hovering above the surface of his smartphone, not knowing what to type. …It’s not as if he doesn’t want to see the other either, but - … _his job_. It just puts the other in so much danger that he would never want to compromise a civilian with.

With a shaken smile on his face (not that the other can see), Tsuna types in.

[I’d like to see you one day too.]

And that’s his honest feelings on the topic.

But for now… even if they’ll never meet as long as Tsuna remains _Tsuna_ … They’ll remain talking about useless topics, getting Samatoki through this – whatever ‘this’ is.

He hasn’t even begun finished typing his next question when his phone buzzes.

[ _Brat._ ]

[ _A policeman just pulled over._ ]

[ _He’s spouting lotsof bullshit and callin himself a shotgun._ ] (Jyu--?)

[…You’re just imagining things?]

He hopes. He prays. He denies. Because if Samatoki’s not the one dreaming up things, it either means Tsuna’s the one who’s gone insane or there really is a policeman out there, getting ready to arrest his drunk friend—

[ _I’m gonna bust his ass witj my mic. Holdon while I rap the shit outta im._ ]

[Wait!]

Samatoki doesn’t.

Burying his face into a pillow, Tsuna sighs heavily and readies himself for another sleepless night. He wonders how much he’s gonna have to pay off the Japanese Police force to get them to release Samatoki? At any rate, it can’t be more than Kyoya’s. (And isn’t it sad? That Kyoya’s damage costs has become the standard for Vongola? Tsuna weeps long and hard into his pillow that night, thinking of the bullets Reborn will aim at him. He has really got to reconsider the people he keep company at any rate.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 
>     The yakuza and the mafiaso deepen their bonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've edited this chapter (Part VI and IX) , hopefully it'd be better this time. Just couldn't put down this plot bunny uuuurgh. I'm continuing this story with lowered expectations, which really, is what I should have to begin with. Hypmic fandom's still too small for this world. Most of my audience are probably not from the Hypmic fandom, so I'll just do a small intro here:
>
>> The world of Hypmic is one where violence has been replaced by rap. In this world, men use rap against each other to attack each other's synapses (causing fainting spells, brainwashing etc). In such a world, men of Japan are split into four territories - Ikebukuro, Yokohama, Shibuya, and Shinjuku, where their representatives clash for territories. 
>
>> [Aohitsugi Samatoki](https://hypnosismic.com/character/yokohama/mr_hc/) was once part of the legendary Dirty Dawg, alongside [Yamada Ichiro of Ikebukuro](https://hypnosismic.com/character/ikebukuro/mc_bb/), [Amemura Ramuda from Shibuy](https://hypnosismic.com/character/shibuya/easy_r/)a, [Jinguji Jakurai of Shinjuku](https://hypnosismic.com/character/shinjuku/ill-doc/). After their split up (as shown in C1), he goes on to lead the [Yokohama Division](https://hypnosismic.com/character/yokohama/) (They're team Blue below, in the order of 45Rabbit, [Iruma Jyuto](https://hypnosismic.com/character/yokohama/45_rabbit/) the corrupt cop, Mr Hardcore, Samatoki, Crazy M, [Busujima Mason Rio](https://hypnosismic.com/character/yokohama/crazy_m/) the out of sorts Survivor) against the other members of Dirty Dawgs who form their own respective teams in their own divisions. 
>> 
>> **[Here](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SSvGPQNrtwQ)** Is a sample of their music introducing all their characters.  < Please click on this link before you continue to read.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> [Here](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/hypnosis-mic/images/1/19/Allmembers.png/revision/latest?cb=20180716074709)'s a little pic of all cast of Hypmic
>> 
>> **[Here](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=C933Vv14XHY)** is Samatoki’s individual Rap song with the rest of his division. The full version is on soundcloud. [**Here**](https://soundcloud.com/choutasegawa/mad-trigger-crew-yokohama-walker) is Yokohama Division's song as a whole.
>> 
>> Well, that should be it. With this, you know everything there is about Hypmic. Because literally, there's no anime, no manga, no anything for us to catch up on. This is a music project done by voice actors for us anime fans. 
>> 
>> (I'm turning into an unpaid advertiser for Hypmic Wow!) I hope this helps you guys to understand the rest of the story! 

* * *

VI. The Morning After

* * *

 

[ _Fuck me upside down or run me over with a truck._ ]

Tsuna calmly extracts his phone from his pocket.

[ _God damn it. Can it hurt_ _anymore?_ ]

[Good morning, Shamatoki-san.]

He types with the patience of a saint. (He _is_ fondly named _Il Sainto del Cielo_ – ‘The Saint of the Sky’ – for a reason. Said reason not being the fact that his enemies have all been permanently scarred for life and screech at even a whisper of his name after the first time they infiltrate his base, get healed by a very extreme Onii-san, and sent home with a gentle pat on the shoulder and a less than pleasant smile from _Reborn_ , causing them to promptly defecate themselves on the spot _._ Oh, yes, Tsuna is a saint amongst saints.)

[ _Why the fuck are you_ ]

A momentary pause.

Samatoki scrolls through his message history.

[ _Oh._ ]

[ ** _Oh._** ]

Wait for it now…

[ _***_ ]

Tsuna wisely and benevolently spares his strained eyes of the long message. A brief skim through already finds him some kanji he’s never seen in his life. Well, good for Samatoki! He beams. It seems like Samatoki’s in a profession that requires him to know some fancy words – or at the very least, some fancy curses. Tsuna will slingshot that idea at him some time; Maybe he should become some fancy writer rolling pretty idioms off his tongue? Albeit, it’ll have to be curses instead of idioms, but any career change is preferable to picking drunken fights with law enforcers… Ah, but that’s Samatoki already? (A guy who scripts curses as casual as fuck.)

Tsuna wants to cry as much as he wants to laugh. There’s just no saving his friends from their recurring visits to the prison cell.

[Samatoki-san.]

He sends, knowing he’s interrupting the rapid tapping of keys midway through more Xanxus-esque vulgarities.

[Are you in a prison cell right now?] He asks, because there’s not a friend of Vongola Decimo that has not been in slammer before. (Even 1-Pin. Even _Fuuta_.)

[ _…How the fuck do you know that?_ ]

Tsuna can’t help the laugh that breaks through him as he drags a hand down his face.

It’s hopeless. It’s tearful. It’s bemoaning the joke that has become his life. Apparently, Sawada Tsuna should stay away from all and any civilians, because oh, he doesn’t know - _It’s his life that’s constantly dragging everyone into the slammer?_

[Oh. I just sort of figured, you know.] He texts more miserably than the other might take it.

[How do you even have your phone in the holding cell anyways?]

[ _Told them the phone’s set to self-destruct without me in the vicinity._ ]

[…And they believed it?] Tsuna questions incredulously. How inefficient are Japan’s police forces?!

[ _I’m a frequent visitor of these cells. They know better than to mess with me._ ]

…Tsuna will not ask. He will not ask.

[For now, do you have a friend or family on the way to bail you out? Is the questioning already done?] Unbeknownst to Samatoki, Tsuna is already preparing to fire off a call to any police station in Yokohama division that have recently come to gain custody of a drunken man in his mid-twenties. Possibly wire a few thousands to them in exchange for keeping their lips sealed. Tsuna knows. He laments his own adaptation to this too.

What comes instead is decidedly unexpected.

[ _Don’t need any._ ]

Does he not have any acquaintances besides the ones he had a falling out with? A thrum of pity resonates in Tsuna. Now as his one and only friend, he should be nice and—

[ _The cocky motherfucking son of a bitch was just baiting me_ ]

[ _Wanted to blackmail his way onto my division_ ]

[ _Never did anything against their laws apparently_ ]

[ _Not to their knowledge at least. Heh._ ]

“…”

He will not ask. He will not ask. He will not ask…!

[Samatoki-san]

[Are you a yakuza?]

A pause.

[ _How thick headed are you, kid?_ ] He can almost hear the scowl in those words.

[ _See the previous messages, dumbass_.]

Tsuna does as he’s told and swipes through the message history.

[ _You… I’m_ so _tearing you from limb to limb when I see you for the first time._ ]

[ _Usually, I’m the one who has to be held back by the responsible ones in the group._ ]

[ _I’m definitely gonna kill you when I get my hands on you someday._ ]

[ _Yes, really. Now, scram. I’ll make you pay if you make a fool of me._ ]

[ _Now, do it before the yakuza comes knocking on your doors on your next trip to Japan._]

His phone buzzes with another message.

Tsuna doesn’t want to see it. He will not see it. He absolutely _will not_.

[ _Urgh this migraine’s killing me_ ]

[ _I wanna go home_ ]

[ _Eh_ , _wth_ ]

[ _Seems like Yokohama Division’s gained a corrupt cop._ ]

Tsuna wants to sob.

[SAMATOKI-SAN…!]

[ _Sama. It’s SAMA! How many times must I drill it into your thick skull?!_ ]

 

* * *

VII. Usual

* * *

 

For the most part, things go unchanged.

Tsuna goes through his life as per usual. Which, of course, entails sailing through the usual wreckage and explosions and the occasional bullets with more lifetimes worth of damage control than any average Mafia Boss will have in their lifetime.

Tsuna smiles angelically whilst doing it all, of course. He can’t _not_ , with Reborn lurking in the shadows behind his back, trigger pulled and a tell-tale smirk on his face giving away how much he longs for the good ol’ days where he’d shoot and Tsuna would run, screeching. He can’t _not_ , with Kyoya constantly keeping him on his toes (literally), Mukuro who metaphorically wriggles his fingers whilst sniggering about how he’s becoming more the perfect puppet to take over every day, and Hayato and Lambo and Onii-san and – Is there a member of this famiglia that’s not destructive? – blowing up everything everywhere every time, leaving messes for Tsuna to clean up. (They really should retitle the Vongola Decimo’s seat to babysitting janitor. That’d be more appropriate.)

The key point is, Samatoki’s but one individual amongst the slew of insane ones in Tsuna’s life. Him awakening to his insane side and quite possibly a long list of unlawful deeds doesn’t change things.

Not much anyways.

[Samatoki-san!]

Tsuna tries.

[Takesushi branches in Yokohama are short of hands recently.]

[Even if only temporarily, would you consider a career switch?]

His plan is as such: First, to get the unlawful law breaker who’s possibly ( _definitely_ , whispers his intuition) a yakuza to get a job and see the joy of living a life of normalcy. Then, following with which Samatoki will hopefully quit his organization missing no pinky (Tsuna won’t let him suffer), and live out his days as a fully functional, happy, reintegrated member of the society. (Tsuna refuses to pick up on the irony of a Mafia Boss rehabilitating a yakuza member.) (Or why the image of such a Samatoki is somehow traumatizing.)

But as with any other famiglia member of his, the ‘usual’ unfortunately consists of conversations like the following:

[ _Why the hell do you think I’m in need of a job? The one I’ve got currently is the only one I want._ ]

Cue memories of a teary Hayato questioning if he isn’t good enough for his position.

[ _Go find some other poor bastard if you need manpower for your pal’s restaurant. I’m a full-time worker with paperwork to be done._ ]

Cue memories of Xanxus emptying the wine glass into his lips as he points an X-gun at an antique desk full of said paperwork. BOOM goes the paperwork, _done_ , and along with it, part of the Varia Manor and another part of Tsuna’s soul with the extra work placed on his.

 _Lies!_ He wants to scream. _You’re a yakuza! How can you possibly have paperwork?!_

It’s then that he remembers the Momokyokai and their untimely entrance that sent papers flying.

_How could you even DO paperwork?!_

It’s unbelievable how much of his faith in the other dissipates after the police fiasco, really.

Tsuna swallows his words, reminding himself that what Samatoki’s saying is normal, it’s _his_ memories of his own famiglia that’re kind of the strange things here, and he smiles as he types in a stutter.

[P-Please… I kind of owe my friend after getting him to set up the reverse tab system.] If there’s one thing Tsuna knows, it’s that the reversion back to his 14-year-old self always works. (Except on Reborn.) [Even if it’s for a week… C-Can you please help out?]

There’s a noticeable falter in the stream of messages as Samatoki contemplates before he replies.

Tsuna eagerly awaits a positive reply.

[ _None of my business._ ]

Tsuna throws his hands up, because _of course_. There’s no way his 14-year-old self could work on a man who’s as heartless as a yakuza.

Or so he thought, till Takeshi cheerfully reports about the increase in applications for part-time jobs from young yakuzas around the region. They’ve been abandoned by their oyabun, apparently, told to go out there and make a living for themselves instead of bullying the residents, and it was strange considering it’s kids like these – sold to yakuza by their parents – that are the most loyal to the boss.

The rehabilitation program works perfectly on these blond slash pompadour-donning delinquents who now don black frilly aprons and Yamamoto-esque smiles as they skip about the shop, offering cute little curtseys.

Tsuna reluctantly gives up on the redemption on Samatoki. (And god, is he relieved Samatoki hasn’t taken up his offer. Because the image of Samatoki in those teens’ place is just… No. He should stop thinking about it.) (At least he’s a good yakuza, right?)

(Wrong.)

 

* * *

VIII. Threats

* * *

 

[ _Kid. I never mentioned it back then during the Rabbit Incident, but if you ever tell anyone about what happened, I won’t let you off easy._ ]

Rabbit Incident?

[What rabbit incident?]

[ _Good. Keep it that way._ ]

[…What?]

[ _It’s nothing. Why the fuck are you picking up your phone at 11am anyways, Sushi-Brat? Don’t you have a job to do?_ ]

(Unaware of his near brush with death,) Tsuna smiles down at his phone. Ah, so this man _does_ care about him after all. It’s almost as cute as when he’s drunk at 1AM and messaging Tsuna with unwholesome spelling. Tsuna still has those texts screenshotted in his phone.

(Let it never be known that Vongola Decimo has blackmailing material on everybody, however oblivious said person is to it.)

 

* * *

IX.I. Loss

* * *

 

Ever since the drunken incident, there are times where his Hyper Intuition would act up, flaring the intense desire to pick up his phone and scroll through his chat till he finds that one name.

Mid-way through yet another rant by Iemitsu, who requested Basil to kindly put him through to Tsuna (and that’s _such_ a low move now, isn’t it?), his fingers begin aching with that tell-tale urge again, the weight of his phone only growing more like bricks in his pocket. Tsuna wryly lifts his head, orange bleeding into brown in a manner that catches Basil’s resigned attention.

“Tsunayoshi-dono—”

“—they _need_ me, Tsuna! They need me, and they can’t do without me. So just get it through that thick skull of yours and stop mopping about a childish loss or two—”

“ _Iemitsu_.” Vongola Decimo seeps into his voice.

Even with the span of miles between them, Sawada Tsunayoshi’s able to tell when his sperm donor freezes up, astonished again by the tone his ‘son’ takes against him. Basil seems understanding, sympathetic even (What successor wouldn’t be disappointed to have his boss have so little faith in him he’d demolish everything Basil’s been working so hard to keep up?), but blue eyes widen, azure slipping into them instinctively. Tsunayoshi offers an apologetic tilt of his head towards him. His animosity isn’t towards him. Their days as training partners are over.

“Iemitsu.” He repeats, redirecting his gaze to Basil’s work phone before him. Tsuna taps his finger, casual words laced with drawl that’s usually enough to hint at a misstep. “Even after three years, you still don’t understand why I’ve sent you back, do you?”

The thrumming concern increase in volume at the back of his head. He doesn’t have time to deal with this.

Unfortunately for both of them, Iemitsu embarks on yet another beguiling tale of how he’s the hero and the world’s the one that has faulted him.

“I know Nana loves me, Tsuna. …But you can’t expect me to sacrifice one family for another—”

He should have thought of that before he had him. (The dangers of a mafia-born child to a civvy already means Nana was involved from the start. And _unknowingly._ )

“I have no words to say to a man who single-handedly jeopardizes both his families with his stupidity.” Tsunayoshi says, words lilting but laced with rounded, sharpness. Basil winces at the corner of his eyes, _because –_

Tsuna reigns in the sky from his voice. Can’t let the _sky_ in him seep in now. While rapping is not his fighting style, his speeches certainly are capable enough to demolish.

There is a stunned silence on the other end that tells of a prologue to the usual fest.

“I offer my apologies for disturbing you in the middle of work!” Basil grabs his phone before it could begin, pressing the mute button to Iemitsu’s scream of outrage. His smile says _Sorry_. Tsuna rubs his temples and returns a strained one that returns _It’s not your fault._

With a jerky nod, the rain smiles – a flicker of knowing mirth dancing into blue eyes – and bows to take his leave.

“I’ll leave you to your urgent business, Tsunayoshi-dono. Please pardon me.”

The door closes behind him.

Tsuna lets loose a sigh, brushing a hand through his untameable locks. As expected of CEDEF, huh, to know everything there is about Vongola (including his little correspondence).

Now then.

Tsuna extracts the tablet from his pocket, fingers picking through the screen to a page he’s rapidly growing familiar with.

Samatoki is offline and most likely sleeping.

Tsuna allows the lines of his shoulders to relax, concern gracing his face and marring it with a softness Reborn would probably shoot at him for. He wonders what the yakuza is dreaming of, for his intuition to be nagging at him to message him in the morning. With faint amusement, he wonders how much of a light-sleeper the man is, if he wakes to a single beep of his phone from Sawada. Kyoya much? (Little does he know all messages from him have been set to maximum volume to drag the yakuza out from the throes of another goddamned nightmare.)

Tsuna doesn’t stop to ponder upon the things he should or could say. It comes to him simple as breathing.

[Good morning, Shamatoki-san]

[It’s six in the morning over there, isn’t it?]

It’s comforting, the presence of an anonymity that releases the shackles on his interactions. He doesn’t have to be Vongola Decimo with Samatoki – not that he does with his friends slash colleagues, of course. It’s just that there’s a little less of the blurry lines and the numerous roles they all play a part of in order to maintain Vongola’s peaceful reign. A little less reminder of the loss of the days when they can just be them.

The answer takes a while to return.

[ _Sushi-Brat_.]

[ _Stop it with the Shamatoki-san. It’s Samatoki-sama to you._ ]

And there’s the usual quip, even when drunken, even when sad.

Tsuna smiles.

[What are you feeling up to have for breakfast today?]

He forwards the image of the lasagne Hayato sent him the other time.

[I’m gonna have this for lunch with my friends soon! (*ゝω・)ﾉ]

It’ll be a while before Samatoki recovers from his falling out with his friends. But until then, Tsuna doesn’t mind helping him cope with his loss.

(“As if you didn’t. I was a fucking huge pain in the ass.” Samatoki would snort through a beer in the near future. “That you are.” Tsuna would answer with a teasing smile he restrains around his maniacs-for-guardians. _Present tense._ A glare fixes itself on him from red eyes. “ _Oi._ ” A rough shove is given on the shoulder. Tsuna laughs.)

 

* * *

(Alternatively)

IX.II. Clockwork

* * *

 

It becomes something like a freaking clockwork to wake up to a text from the Sushi-Brat. Hell, Samatoki finds himself setting the volume on max, because he needs that sound to drag him out of his fucked-up dreams. (Pleasant, or otherwise. They all turn bitter at the end anyways.)

[Good Morning, Shamatoki-san!]

Samatoki imagines the smooth bright chirp of an irritatingly upbeat brat.

[It’s six am over in Japan now, isn’t it?]

Stupid useless questions with how abnormally time-aware the other is. Samatoki still remembers that the time the Sushi-Brat lands himself over in Denmark and is able to tell, to the minute, what the time difference is between continents.

He lights a cigar up. He tears himself away from his sweat-soaked bed. _Filthy._

[ _Sushi-Brat._ ] He sends. He doesn’t stop to ponder upon useless questions that he used to. ‘How the fuck does he do this every time?’ ‘What kind of messed up coincidence is this?’ ‘You. Who in the fucking hell are you?’ Samatoki blows out a long trail of smoke. [ _Stop it with the Shamatoki-san. It’s Samatoki-sama to you._ ] He types instead, a quip that’s by now familiar between them, annoyingly reminiscent of his time with _that other brat_.

Samatoki bats off the memories of _Yamada Fucking Ichiro_ and instead focuses on the timely buzz of his phone.

[What are you feeling up to have for breakfast today?]

A picture of a lasagne shoves the previous message up.

[I’m gonna have this for lunch with my friends soon! (*ゝω・)ﾉ]

Samatoki breathes, closing his eyes as his mind searches for a retort, conveniently distracted from how _Ichiro was scowling, Ramuda was smiling, Sensei sighing at their usual antics_ in his dream. Fingers flying across the keyboard, he replies with the one thing he knows is not readily available to the other in Italy.

[ _Sushi._ ]

[(´･_･｀)]

 

* * *

X. Daddy Problems

* * *

 

[I hate my Dad.]

Says the counselee to the counsellor one fine day where Mom decides it’d be a nice idea to try and put Dad and him together in one room. For family reasons, of course. (People simply do not say ‘No’ to Sawada Nana.) It ends as well as one would expect, except with both Father and Child placing forced smiles on their faces when Nana clapped her hands together and asked if they’ve settled their differences. (Not in a million years.)

Tsuna takes another shot.

It burns as it runs down his throat. It’d take more barrels to get him drunk though.

Not for the first time, Tsuna wishes Reborn hadn’t trained his alcohol tolerance as much as he did. Sure, he gets that many a trip down to the casino with his intuition is a necessity to pay off damages his guardians caused – but there are times when even _Il Sainto Del Cielo_ wants to get drunk, damn it!

[ _Daddy problems much?_ ]

Tsuna scoffs.

[You have no idea.]

There’s an entire list that he can write and far too many that’d be strike off in the name of anonymity, but even then, it’d exceed the textbox’s character count.

[ _Now, now_ ]

[ _Just lower your head and ask for forgiveness this once._ ]

[ _You don’t wanna drop out of university and become a thug like me_ ]

[I’m a Mafia Boss.] He texts, incredulity flaring his nostrils.

[ _Heh. So you’re still sober enough to remember your cover, huh_ ]

He wishes! Tsuna would sob in joy if it really is just a cover.

[Because of my Dad, I’m mafia born and forced into the fate of being a mafia boss.] He laments in what’s probably just another sarcastic comment to the other.

[And I’m forced with these friends of mine who give me headaches every hour of the day – not that I don’t like them – but what the hell? I could do without the migraines and the debts and the sleepless nights]

He buries his face in his palms, resisting the urge to sob. His tear ducts have been dried out lately. (Most likely from sleep deprivation. They won’t even let him cry now, do they? He whimpers.)

[ _Now, now_ ] He imagines a pat on the shoulder.

[You’re one of them, I’ll have you know]

[ _I’m not the fucked-up bastard who decided I’ll do for a life counsellor. Who the hell even settles on a yakuza for life advices?_ ]

[Erm.]

[You’re right.]

[Haha]

[I really am messed up.]

He’s been ruined by Reborn’s nasty clutches.

[ _That you are._ ]

Tsuna scowls. Couldn’t he at least try to comfort him?

[ _But it’s thanks to you that I’m sitting in the VIP corner of Takesushi, enjoying premium sushi with my boys flouncing around in aprons._ ]

[ _I have you to thank for that._ ]

[…Is that sarcasm?] Tsuna honestly can’t tell.

[ _Btw, you should recommend that pal of yours to allocate a separate room for VIP’s. We’d all be better off making our dealings that way. Easier for the business._ ]

What.

[Is Takesushi becoming a salon for secret dealings?!]

[OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE!?]

[ _I’m not fucking any woman here, kid_ ]

Tsuna hears the scoff in his tone. Then, the typing against the screen by the invisible man who he doesn’t even know the face of.

[ _You’ve transformed my brats into freaking goodie-two-shoes. These bastards are like hawks stopping me at every turn round the corner_ ]

Ah. Tsuna sighs. That’s a relief then.

[ _So_ ]

[ _You still haven’t said it_ ]

[ _What did your old man do to you?_ ]

[ _Withhold your pocket money? Put a cigar on you? Cane you? Rape you? Murder your mother and your sister?_ ]

[…Isn’t this escalating a bit too quickly?] Why?! Why does he have acquaintances like this?!

[ _Can’t be too bad in that case then._ ] It seems like he’s shrugging and taking a swig of his sake, so Tsuna follows his imaginary friend’s example and takes another shot.

[Besides, I just told you what he did.]

_BOOM!_

It’s the same instance where his thumb drops down on the ‘send’ button that the door flies – not _open_ , but literally, _flies_ across the room and hit the opposing wall with the usual force Tsuna’s learnt to associate with ‘mafia’ and ‘education’.

Tsuna’s jaw hangs slack.

How does that even happen?! This is a goddamn bomb shelter! Built to withstand an infiltration from outside forces, keep enemies out and at times in, withstand the existence of – Varia…

Xanxus stands at the door, dramatic smoke sweeping all around him as per usual.

It’s then that Tsuna remembers how he’d chosen to go for adrenaline, since alcohol’s no longer an option for getting drunk.

Breaking into Varia? That hadn’t even required effort. Their doors are constant open in the very Varia-esque way of “Come get us if you dare. Kill our leader and you’ll become our leader, then we’ll be eternal huge pain on your asses”. Breaking into Xanxus’ cellar? That required a bit of trickery since the cellar was literally built to keep a drunken Xanxus _in_ and outsiders _out_ – come to think of it, that might explain why the doors are so fragile, because a drunken Xanxus can continue drinking red wine with an X-gun in his hands, even as the world falls apart around him and his second screams “VOI’s” and gets thrown wine glasses.

But back to the present.

Tsuna curses the decision of the Two Hours Prior Tsuna to flirt with death when bloodshot eyes shift and lands upon him, dilating in an all too familiar way. An X-gun’s cocked up at him before he can say a word. From what Tsuna gathers, Xanxus’ pissed, but then again, when is he never?

“Trash,” He says.

Tsuna’s intuition allows him to dodge the first blow. And the second. And the third.

Red eyes narrow at him thereafter, both men at a standstill because they both know how this would end – The cellar in shambles, both of them pissed with the need to be drunk, more paperwork on their desks (and possible limping on Tsuna’s behalf, both from the fight and something a little extra thereafter). Xanxus seems to come to terms with his presence after a seething second and narrows his eyes at the glass Tsuna’s holding.

“Hand it over.” He cocks his gun at it.

Tsuna knows better to approach, so he tosses it.

Xanxus has more than mastered the art of tossing wine glasses at his second, so he catches it as skilfully all the same.

One glass of wine later, the liger personification’s seated in his posh throne, inches away from Tsuna’s phone which just chooses to buzz at that goddamn untimely time.

Red eyes flicker to his phone, taking in kanjis with no trouble at all.

He scoffs, extends his glass to him.

“Another.” He demands.

“I’m not your personal assistant, you know.” Tsuna frowns. He reaches out to help pour more wine into the glass regardless. The Mafia grunts would have their heads blown out by Reborn if they were to see this.

“…Don’t tell anyone.” He says. Because Reborn would definitely go to recruit Samatoki from the other continent if he finds out. It wouldn’t be the first time. And come to think of it, Tsuna can’t exactly remember the last time Xanxus gave away his secrets? (Not that he’s got any, at this point.)

Xanxus still holds his phone captive.

[ _I totally believe you, kid_ ] Says the message on his phone when he peeks over his arm.

[ _Though I’d say you’re still a thousand years too early if you wanna compare your Daddy Issues to mine._ ]

[ _You might want to drag in those messed up friends of yours if you even want to stand a chance against the great Samatoki-sama. Because my story’s definitely more fucked up than yours_ ]

…Ignoring that Lambo-esque phrase aside, Tsuna turns blankly to Xanxus.

Red eyes peer at him, observing in an almost sleepy manner as he tilts his glass and red stains his lips the way blood would. Oddly enough, Tsuna’s intuition thrums on the back of his mind, telling him he’s missing something. He scrambles for whatever _that_ is and his mind supplies him with that one cheerful comment Timoteo had just this morning about “paying regards to family” amidst the chaos that was Mukuro roasting Kyoya, Kyoya narrowing silver-blue eyes, Hayato jabbing his spoon throat-deep into Lambo’s mouth, Onii-san pumping his fists and cheering, and Takeshi catching their latest infiltrator by tossing a cucumber out of the window.

No sooner had that memory come to him, Tsuna immediately knows what’s wrong.

Xanxus smiles. It’s more a quirk of his lips that’s more a smirk that’d come from a cannibal eyeing his next victim, but Tsuna’s messed up hyper intuition (Why couldn’t it warn him of this sooner?!) tells him to stay quiet and he does, even when his tear ducts are running into overdrive trying to summon a tear for what’s to come.

Xanxus taps a single finger against the screen of his phone.

[I’m in.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do comment to tell me if you liked it! Kudos--...will be unexpected, because people will be hindered by the wall between fandoms. Also, my sense of humour's dying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 
>     The yakuza becomes a matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 4 comments... (´･_･｀)  But well, I guess that's fine haha! Thank you so much, guys! Mistext got so many kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks I was so surprised! It's like every time I refreshed the page, there's a new one. I'm glad the people of KHR fandom are so open to this story despite Hypmic being relatively unknown (≧ω≦)ゞ
> 
> Alright! I'll be entering into my usual Hypmic corner of woe, so please try to follow to get the most out of scene XI and XV. Otherwise if you don't want to... (´･_･｀) Well, it's fine too. We're not at the point where you need to know much about Hypmic yet ^^ The links this time will be to soundcloud, so you can just open a new tab and listen while reading, even on your phone. (Wow am I un-tech-savvy.)
>
>> 
>>     *Please note these images do not belong to me. Picture credits where they are due. 2nd pic: [Mebaru](https://twitter.com/mebarunrun).*
>> 
>> Yokohama Division, or Bayside Mad Trigger Crew, is as previously mentioned a team of three: Aohitsugi Samatoki, the yakuza oyabun, Iruma Jyuto, the corrupt cop, and Busujima Mason Rio, a half American-Japanese military soldier currently living on a self-imposed strict regime as a survivor in Yokohama's forest (since Japan has no military).
>> 
>> Their songs are: **[Jyuto's 'Bayside Smoking Blues'](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/q68gy4dyoask?in=choutasegawa/sets/hypnosismic)** , **[Rio's 'What's my name?'](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune) **
>> 
>> For those who are unaware, Yokohama is also one of Japan's major harbor. That'll explain XV.
>> 
>> Samatoki's background: His dad turned abusive on his family when he's young and his mom killed his dad out of self-defense. Thereafter, she commented suicide, leaving behind Samatoki and his younger sister. These two are currently living separately for unknown reasons. [As mentioned in his song]
>
>> Rio in particular is known for his exotic / gross cooking, even though he treats it as a hobby. Both the other members of MTC fear him for it, to the point where they'd drop any cat-and-dog bickering they have (They're kinda like Dino and Squalo but cooler) at the mention of Rio's food. A lavender drink from him can make one faint. His food are as you will see. He's painfully oblivious to it, unfortunately, which makes him different from Bianchi. 
>
>> Some known survivors of his food, if you're interested, includes Fling Posse's Gambler (yes, that's his job!) [**Arisugawa Dice**](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune) and Matenrou's Insomniac Salaryman **[Kannonzaka Doppo](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/hecirhtsoj7l)**. I've linked their songs to their names, so just click if it interest you. One's about Gambling and the other's about Depression (inverted heads and wilting flowers really). I recommend the later. Wonder what that says bout me :P
> 
> With that, I end this corner. Please enjoy!

* * *

XI. Tragic Pasts

* * *

 

[ _My old man went ballistic on us and my Mother went on to kill him in self-defense._ ]

[ _She then went on to kill herself in grief._ ]

All of that is sent so casually, Tsuna can almost imagine the invisible man on the other end of the line blowing out a long line of smoke thereafter. He wonders what circumstances lead their trio into having a group chat in the middle of the night like this (alcohol), why they’re sharing their tragic pasts with each other (alcohol), and why Samatoki’s open to revealing his past. (The answer has always been alcohol.)

Xanxus, with his own phone dangling precariously between fingers, sips on his wine with dignity. Tsuna hesitates to follow his example.

[My old man died a long time back.]

Tsuna shoots him an incredulous look.

He’s really going to message him back?

Red eyes are decidedly nonchalant, in that cool drunken but composed manner only Xanxus could muster.

[My old hag dumped me onto my current guardian by lying about siring his child.]

[The fucking piece of thrash took me in and hid my lineage from me. Made me work my ass out thinking I could succeed his business and all.]

[He beat me into the ground when I found out.]

Oh, okay. That’s not the whole truth, is it?

“You’re missing all the facts in between.” Tsuna frowns at the Varia officer across the table.

“What? You want me to tell him about how I became a fucking popsicle for eight years?” Xanxus scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Or how I discovered my lineage from a _diary_ of all things? Or how he made me _Varia Assassination Squad’s_ leader as a consolation prize for not being able to become _Vongola Decimo_?” Tsuna winces at the seethe and warning glow on tan hands. “Learn to have a bit of sensitivity, Vongola _fucking_ Decimo.”

_That’s rich, coming from you!_

Tsuna would pull at his locks and scream, but he fears the threat of wine glasses too much.

[ _Heh. Fucked up parenting, the both of us._ ] Buzzes both their phones simultaneously. Tsuna groans at how his problems have doubled and only seems to be increasing.

[ _So. How about you, Sushi-Brat?_ ]

Xanxus quirks a brow at the nickname.

“Don’t ask.” Tsuna murmurs through another shot. He wants to quickly lose memories of this night.

[ _Any fucked up stories we should know about?_ ]

Fucked up…?

Xanxus snorts. Tsuna drops his face into his palms and types wryly.

[Where should I even begin?]

The night’s only beginning if they’re getting Tsuna to spill on his oh-so-tragic past. (Starting with the appearance of a suited man in the form of a baby.)

 

* * *

XII. Fucking

* * *

 

[ _You’re fucking him, aren’t you?_ ]

Tsuna is absolutely scandalized.

[SAMATOKI-SAN!]

[ _Is that how you call his name in bed?_ ]

[ _Totally his woman, I see. Heh._ ]

[Oh god]

How did he end up in a conversation like this with his texting buddy slash counsellor? He wasn’t even able to get drunk on adrenaline the night before. Now, he’s getting interrogated on his sexual partners?! (How _did_ Samatoki find out about it?)

[Were we really that obvious?]

[ _When the texts stopped making sense and you misspelled a ‘l’ with an ‘a’ even though it’s all the way on the other side of the keyboard? Yes, you two were fucking obvious. Literally too_ ]

[Oh god] Tsuna buries his face in both palms. He wants to die.

[ _You must think I’m fucking dumb to pass it off as a drunken mistake_ ]

[ _I had plenty of experience myself_ ]

[How do you]

Tsuna sends the message by mistake, mouth falling open, aghast when it dawns upon him.

[Did you]

[Have you]

[-With me?] He musters choked up broken thoughts that barely makes sense.

[ _Hmph_ ]

[ _A couple of times, I suppose._ ] A casual admission.

Tsuna’s mouth falls larger than it had last night.

[Oh god]

His face burns with shame. His hands are trembling in their grasp over his phone.

[Oh god]

The thought of Samatoki doing _that_ with a woman – or a man, he has no right to judge – over the phone while Tsuna’s in the middle of his paperwork torture, smiling at what he thinks is a drunken text or two. That image is— Speaking of which, wasn’t there that one time— _hell no—_

[Did you]

Tsuna struggles to text it, fingers shaking so much they’re on the verge of dropping the phone.

[You didn’t]

[ _Spit it out._ ]

Tsuna fumbles.

[That time with the policeman who called himself shotgun you didn’t]

[ _Fuck no I didn’t._ ]

Tsuna despairs.

[So you did.]

[ _The hell’s wrong with you? Why does your head plummet into the gutter so quick?_ I’m _the yakuza here._ ]

And he’s mafia but—

[Shotgun. Fuck. Policeman.]

[ _…Shit. It does sound like one hell of a hate sex to be set up there, doesn’t it?_ ]

Tsuna chokes.

[--Samatoki-san]

[ _Cool your dick, prepubescent brat. Lay some sushi over it. Sushi’s supposed to be cool, ain’t it?_ ]

[ _Go get your bitch to eat it off you_ ]

[Oh god] Tsuna drags a hand down his face. [I’m not having this conversation with you] His back is still throbbing from last night, for goodness’ sake. Xanxus was pleasantly calmer after their trio simmered in their unified grievances of the unfair world for a while, but that doesn’t make their usual escapees any less painful. (Not that, of course, Tsuna would complain about it to the person in question. He likes it that way. It’s just how Xanxus is.)

[ _Fucking while messaging you is a lie, I’ll admit_ ]

Tsuna is relieved.

[ _Your whining was too much of a bitch for me to get off peacefully_ ]

[Samatoki-san?!] That means – he _tried_ -?! Tsuna chokes on his spit.

[ _There it is. How_ does _Xanxus fuck you through your complains? Maybe I should ask him._ ]

[NO NO PLEASE DON’T SAMATOKI-SAMA!]

(Samatoki’s enjoying retribution far too much.)

 

* * *

XIII. Love

* * *

 

[ _But let’s talk about the serious shit_ ]

[ _Does that guy make you happy, kid?_ ]

Tsuna is sulking.

[He makes me happier than you do.]

[ _You must have one hell of a low standard then. I don’t aim to make anyone happy_ ]

[Shut up.]

[ _Heh. You’re not the boss of me._ ]

[Obviously]

Tsuna frowns down at the omelette rice on his desk for the longest time. He absently stabs and scrambles the eggs into little pieces mixed in with their previous contents. Sometimes, he thinks the universe is like him with eggs. It takes him and his feelings, scrambles him with his everything all up till it’s hard to tell head from toe, where he ends and where his feelings end. Sometimes, Tsuna hates it.

[ _Sushi-Brat._ ] Samatoki obviously senses there’s something wrong.

[We’re not dating.] Tsuna types sullenly, watching the text filter before showcasing a clear ‘received’.

[ _Repeat that again, will you?_ ]

[It’s as you can read above. We’re not dating.] Tsuna grumbles. If he makes him repeat it again…

[ _That’s fucked up._ ]

[Yeah, I know]

[ _I mean, for hairless Sushi-Brat to be having premarital sex. And here I thought Xanxus had already officiated it with you_ ]

[…How chaste did you think I was?]

Each and every one of these guys… Tsuna already knows that Reborn knows (that _smirk_ ), but he still doesn’t dare tell Hayato to date. That guy thinks of him as above the guy who created mountains and hung up stars for goodness’ sake! And if he finds out his precious tenth has been plummeted, plundered, pounded into the sheets slash any other verb possible here by the big bad Varia Boss… Tsuna honestly can only imagine his guardians’ reactions.

Samatoki’s admission doesn’t help much.

[ _I thought you’d be a total virgin, honestly._ ]

[Oh geez. I’m not sure whether or not to be flattered.]

[ _Sarcasm’s a nice change from your usual whining._ ]

Tsuna sighs.

Well. He bounces a leg and winces at the piercing throb up his back. He rubs soothing circles into it. He _is_ talking to his self-proclaimed counsellor, so…

[We’re fuck buddies.] He admits.

[ _Obviously._ ]

[What has my life become?] -That he is admitting this so freely now? Tsuna wants to sob.

[ _Are you asking me or are you lamenting it? Choose one, brat, so I can shoot you down properly._ ]

[Both.]

[ _Greedy little shit, aren’t you?_ ]

[That’s right. I’m greedy.] Tsuna leans in on his desk, puts his head in both his arms and whimpers at the throbbing ache that shoots up his spine. Reborn would _so_ kill him if he sees him this way, but… He sulks into his arms as he eyes his phone.

[I like him and I want him but I don’t dare to ask him out.] It’s fucking Xanxus for god’s sake!

[He’ll most likely toss a wine glass at my face before destroying his base just to shit on me.]

[ _The little fledging is sprouting wings and learning to speak yakuza. Good work, Me._ ]

They call this mafia speak in Italy, you know.

[Don’t forget I still hold the counsellor card.]

[ _Continue threatening me, will you? We’ll see what kind of shitty advice I can give you._ ]

[I’m sorry, Samatoki-sama. I just…] Just…what? Just am too caught up in Xanxus? Just can’t tell what I’m supposed to do? What does he even want to say here?

Tsuna groans as he drops his head back on his arms. He wishes, like he always does after a not-so-drunken night on his behalf and quite an intoxicated one on Xanxus’ behalf, that he hadn’t approached and tipped Xanxus’ head onto his shoulder that first time he stumbled on him drunk. A drunken Xanxus tends to be like a sober Xanxus, just maybe less trigger-happy and a lot more angsty beneath the sleepiness that paints him to be cool and composed. He puts his emotions into every touch though. And Tsuna’s always swept right off his feet by that stormy sky before he could recover his standing.

(He can never tell what’s behind every touch and caress though. Yesterday too… Why did Xanxus tuck a tuff of untameable brown hair behind his ear the way he did? Was that breathy near-kiss at the top of his head at the end just them being caught in the moment?)

[ _The world’s twisted enough with me playing counsellor. It doesn’t need me playing matchmaker too._ ] Samatoki grumbles on the other end.

[But you’re my sugar baby]

[ _Fuck you. I’m_ so _not helping you_ ]

“…”

[ _But from what I can tell, you must be blind not to see that guy’s clearly enamoured with you. Who the hell sits down and reveals his tragic past to get closer to your friend?_ ]

[You.] Tsuna doesn’t blink an eye as he types that.

[ _…Okay. Things just went downhill real quick._ ]

[ _We were drunk._ ]

[Isn’t that what we all say?] Tsuna bemoans. [And Xanxus is drunk 24/7]

[ _Off you, you mean?_ ]

Tsuna smashes his head into the desk.

[I have no hopes of ever getting with him.]

[ _Just gather your balls where they’ve dropped, and fucking go to him._ ]

[ _You’re not a wimp now, are you? Can’t be too difficult to spit your feelings out to him._ ]

It’s clear what Samatoki is doing. Agitation unfortunately has a reverse effect on Tsuna.

[I’m a wimp…]

[I’m pathetic…]

[I’m Dame-Tsuna]

[ _What the fuck does that even mean?_ ]

[There’s no way anyone ever wants to be with me]

[Well, I’ve technically been having platonic sex with him for three years]

[…but what am I saying? I’m _me_. I’ve gotten the position he wanted most just because of stupid bloodlines… Beat him down because he was threatening my friends. Get tossed wine glasses every time I see him because of that. Stole into his wine cellar for the sake of comforting him and ended up being screwed out of my mind…]

[ _…Oi, Brat. Are you even listening to yourself?_ ]

[Anyone who’s with me will only be in for a lifetime of danger. Not that he isn’t already in danger. Actually, strike that. Not that he isn’t already Danger. But I can’t put Xanxus in more danger than he is… And not to mention, we’re not a good match. I’m stupid and he knows more than thirteen languages and I’m dumb but he knows strategy by heart and all I can do is talk while he can fight]

[ _You’re the fucking worst, you know that? To submit me to this._ ]

 

* * *

XIV. Fairy Godmother

* * *

 

[ _Oi._ ]

[What. Yakuza Scum.]

[ _Don’t call me that, Fucktard._ ]

[ _Your boytoy’s spamming me over his poor little feelings._ ]

[ _Do something about it._ ]

[He’s not my boytoy.]

[ _Ho? Then what do you call him?_ ]

[ _Fuck toy? One night stand? Gigolo?_ ]

[ _Cause I swear, if you say anything like that…_ ]

[Fuck off.]

[I’m hangover.]

[It’s too early to deal with this.]

[You _fuck off. It’s fucking two at noon over there._ ]

[ _And if you’re hangover, just go chug some aspirin_ ]

[ _Do you have any idea what Sawada is saying here?_ ]

[ _He’s going on and on about how he’s not worthy of you, because you’re God’s gift to humanity and he’s lower than human trash._ ]

[ _The kid keeps rambling on and on about how he doesn’t want to put you in danger_.]

[ _Fuck. He’s going into the attributes now._ ]

[ _‘Ruby eyes that glint like blood on a moonlit night’_ ]

[ _The fuck? He’s waxing poetry about you now._ ]

[ _Makes me wanna retch_ ]

[ _Fucktard._ ]

[ _Get back online, damn it._ ]

[ _Deal with Sawada yourself._ ]

[ _Don’t you fucking dare go back to sleep_ ]

[ _Do you know how concerned the kid is for you damn it_ ]

[ _OI._ ]

[ _Don’t ignore me!_ ]

[ _That settles it…_ ]

[ _I’m_ definitely _coming after you the day you set foot in Japan_ ]

[Fuck you too.]

[I’m on my way to his mansion.]

[Tell me what the scum said on the way.]

[ _Don’t call him that._ ]

[Scum.]

[ _Don’t call me that either, you little shit._ ]

[I’m older. I can call you whatever the fuck I want.]

[Trash.]

[ _…I think I’m starting to understand Sawada’s pain a little._ ]

[ _Bastard._ ]

[ _I’ll send you the screenshots in a moment, but I’ll have you know_ ]

[ _If you ever hurt a single hair on his head…_ ]

[Too late, Scum.]

[You already know how we met.]

[That’s a promise I can’t make in our line of work.]

[ _Stupid bastards and their messed up secrets…_ ]

[ _Then, if you ever hurt him emotionally…_ ]

[Why the fuck should I answer to you?]

[ _Well._ _Fuck you too._ ]

[But if he’s ever hurt, you’ll be sure to catch wind of it.]

[Because we’ll do everything in our capabilities to crush the ones who do it.]

[Insider or not.]

[ _Heh. Well, I’ll be damned._ ]

[ _Seems like I was the one who underestimated your resolve._ ]

[ _Well, whatever. I’ll send you the screenshots now. Here you go, Bastard._ ]

[ _Take good care of my Sushi-Brat._ ]

 

* * *

 

[ _Don’t you dare say I didn’t do my part as your counsellor, Sushi-Brat._ ]

Brown eyes blink, widening at the hum of his intuition. What-?

[ _I expect at least a lifetime of sushi._ ]

[ _Also, don’t you dare call me your matchmaker._ _Or name your first-born after me._ ]

[ _It’d only complicate things and fuck up my life._ ]

There’s a growing sense of _something_ at the back of his mind, building up by the second. Oddly enough, it isn’t trepidation for once. Tsuna has never had an experience like this, ever. (Even his eighteenth birthday’s surprise party had a bit of that terrifying element to it, because it’s Vongola-styled. Meaning fire arrows and sword swallowing and bones cracking. The adrenaline rush was admittedly thrilling.) This by itself makes it terrifying, he supposes.

With natural, gliding steps and an angelic smile plastered to his face (Reborn’s trigger is still pulled) as he takes his first step into Vongola’s quarterly leaders’ meeting (gathering of top leaders and key alliance figures to dictate the famiglia’s direction), Tsuna looks around wryly for Squalo, sure that Varia’s second would enter in replacement of his hangover boss.

He doesn’t see him around.

Instead, as Hayato turns and checks off the last of the list, someone unexpected reaches out with hands in a vice-grip around his upper arm. What-? (He catches sight of Reborn’s smug smirk out of the corner of his eyes. He’d let him through. He hears Hayato’s affronted, panicking loud yelp. He sees his no-good Father struggling to slip through the doors-)

-And he feels that telling warmth on his lips, dry and chapped but as possessive as ever.

Gasps fill the room.

…What is he doing?!

Tsuna struggles to pull away, only to have a large palm – palms that can easily set him ablaze, fingers that could easily mar him and has for many times – calloused fingers dig their way into the base of his untameable locks and settle there. The warmth of rough palms on his face is so tender. _His_ warmth, so painfully familiar where Tsuna had pulled away just hours prior to this with an aching tug on his drained heart, wrapping around him and tugging him in.

Who could blame Tsuna for once more submitting to this?

Brown eyes pay no attention to the dropped jaws around them or the smug smirks or the money exchanging places in sly hands when they part. All his mind’s preoccupied on is the airy burn in his lungs from a too-long kiss, the twitch of the edges of Xanxus’ lips upwards – into a ghost of a smile that’s not a smirk. He faintly remembers the words Samatoki sent him. Ah. So _this_ is what he was talking about. He should call him his fairy godmother henceforth.

It’s then, of course, that like fairy godmother's magic, reality decides to drop back down on them.

The doors are kicked down. A panting Squalo looks like he just had a dive in the pool.

“VOOOOI! FUCKING BOSS! YOU HAD ME RUN THE WHOLE FUCKING WAY HERE—”

Hayato leaps into action. Accompanied by Takeshi who’s all too supportive with a smile a bit too wide to be normal—

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO OUR TENTH, YOU BASTARD?!”

“Haha! Should I take him out for you, Tsuna?”

His no good Dad turns plain white and collapses onto Basil.

“My son… That vile brat… to my darling Tunayoshi…”

“T-there, there, Master.”

And—

* _Click Click_ *

Tsuna peers incredulously at Reborn.

“Nana’s orders.” The world’s strongest hitman quirks a smile beneath his fedora.

Well, alright then. Keep taking.

“Not that I mind, but did you have to do it here?” Dino is unusually the voice of reason as he lolls his eyes up the heavens, as if asking why it offends him so. (Or why his little brother has to get together with Vongola Xanxus of all people.)

Tsuna flushes. A calloused thumb comes up to trace his lips, the limb in question belonging to Xanxus. And it’s only then that he realizes he has a large, lopsided smile on his face – no doubt silly, no doubt love-struck. And Tsuna buries his face into Xanxus’ chest with a muffled groan, unable to withhold the expression still. The indulgent curl of a strong arm on his shoulder offers a protective shield from the world.

“We’re dating.” Xanxus declares. And Tsuna feels himself flushing more where he’s tucked away. The words themselves are too sweet after three years of just being… _something_. And Samatoki would definitely point out how there’s something wrong with this – starting out with the home base right at the start of their relationship – but all Tsuna wants to do now is to simmer a bit more in the joy of the label he’s finally earned – that _they_ finally have.

“Anyone who has an issue against this can speak up now.” Xanxus states.

“Have an issue?” Iemitsu growls, striding forward. “I have more than just that!”

Xanxus aims a bullet that’s narrowly dodged, nearly decimating the previous CEDEF Boss in the process. Lal cuts in swiftly and knocks her past employer out, grumbling.

“Anyone else?” Xanxus questions, narrowed eyes surveying the room.

Silence.

Then, somebody raises their hand. It’s Mukuro, because _of course_ , why the hell not?

“More specifically, when did you get together?” His Mist guardian offers his most winning smile. “There are those amongst us who’ve placed bets on it.”

Of course. Tsuna sobs tearlessly into Xanxus’ chest. Of course, his love life’s a joke for these people too. (He’s not too surprised to find Reborn managing this particular betting pool and walking away with everyone’s money.)

 

* * *

XV. Crackling

* * *

 

[ _Repeat that again. I dare you._ ]

Samatoki narrows his eyes on his phone.

The fucking brat doesn’t even hesitate.

[Fairy Godmother. (*ゝω・)ﾉ]

[ _That settles it. I’ll fucking barbeque you when you get back and serve it to the twisted cop._ ]

[Haha]

[Why the sudden desire for cannibalism?]

[ _That’s_ ]

Samatoki casts a dry look at the knocked out cop beside him. Iruma fucking Jyuto has his eyes rolled back, back lolled over the top of a random log Rio had gotten them to make them all comfy after the last trip. The stupid bastard had that same reaction the first time they’d come, and yet. _And yet_ , he’s still fucked up enough to drag Samatoki back into this fucking forest to try Rio’s exotic dishes. How dang masochistic is he?

…That said, it’s not like Samatoki can refuse _that look_ on Rio’s face.

He quietly turns to the survivalist.

Blue eyes are quietly sparkling as he gathers his firewood, all pumped up and ready to cook them their next meal. He’s not smiling, but the very picture of innocence when he notices Samatoki’s gaze and turns to him is enough to make Samatoki swallow his collecting spit.

He reluctantly, with closed eyes, takes another bite of deep-fried tarantula.

The eight-legged thing crunches in his mouth.

… _Fuck Iruma Jyuto and his goddamn heart!_

[ _Anything’s better than the thing I’m eating now_ ]

[Hm? What are you eating?]

[ _Don’t fucking ask, Sushi-Brat. Just know for fuck’s sake it’s not sushi._ ]

Samatoki wishes Rio had more sense to hunt for fish rather than spiders when he staked out by the harbour. Then again, they had this the last time, didn’t they? Why didn’t he change the menu? Oh, right, it’s because Iruma _fucking_ Jyuto decided to protect the kid of Bayside Mad Trigger Crew (he’s older than Samatoki for heavens’ sake!) and told him they were merely “ _blissed out_ ” by how delicious all his cooking is… “even if it’s… _exotic_.” _Fuck him and that nice tight ass of his._

“Urgh… guh…!” Jyuto rubs his temples, apparently coming back to the land of living. “What did I miss…?”

“What do you think?” Another crunch of the tarantula. Jyuto rapidly pales. “Be a man and suck it up already, you dirty cop!”

“…How about no? Urm. No. I definitely can’t.” He’s shaking his head again. This wimp…!

It’s then that his phone decides to buzz again. (Amazing, how it still has reception in this region of Yokohama. Albeit, it’s powered up by the little bit of lightning flames Samatoki has in his system.)

[Well, I guess I’ll listen to you just this time. Since you helped bring Xanxus and myself together!]

[ _Then start referring to me with ‘Sama’, Sushi-Brat._ ]

[Ah, I almost forgot, but we’re actually gonna get married soon!]

Samatoki nearly does a spit-take. He swallows under Rio’s sympathetic gaze before the tarantula and the round-and-fat rat could leave and ruin their already non-existent appetites further.

[ _The fuck?!_ ]

[ _You should have told me that earlier!_ ]

[Sorry, sorry…]

[I was sort of trying to put it off as long as possible]

Samatoki narrows his eyes at his phone.

“Pass me the salt, please, Rio,” Jyuto finally decides it’s time to show he has one down there too and extends his red gloved hand courteously to the soldier. His smile is strained. “While it’s perfectly seasoned, I’d prefer mine to be slightly… saltier.” So the salt could cover up the knowledge of what they’re eating, he’d bet.

“Is that so.” Rio is gullible down to a fault. “This sergeant shall take note of it on your next visit.”

Samatoki’s eye twitches uncontrollably.

No fucking way are they returning to this hell hole the next time.

[ _Don’t worry about it, Brat._ ]

[ _I don’t mind not being invited._ ]

He takes a large bite of the rat and bites down the urge to retch. The brat and his bitch are sort of in some obscure business after all, to be surrounded by danger 24/7.

[That’s…not really what I’m concerned about, Samatoki-san.]

[ _Sama._ ]

[ _And I’m just good with the knowledge that you guys are happy. Have a fun-filled shackled life fucking like rabbits._ ]

He gets the feeling the brat’s facepalming in Italy.

[Your wording is just…]

[The issue, Samatoki-san, is not the wedding]

[ _Sama._ ]

[We’re holding two ceremonies, one public and one private, so you’d be safe so long as you attend the private one. We can make sure your identity is undisclosed, so no enemies will get to you. Our allies will also know who to protect the next time they run into you]

Fucking kid.

Samatoki growls around another the last mouthful of rat. (He fails to notice Jyuto relocating some of his onto Samatoki’s plate.)

He doesn’t need any protection, for fuck’s sake.

[It’s just] The kid continues in heart-breaking concern that’s just irksome to him.

[The transportation is a bit]

[… _What?_ ]

[I sent Xanxus.]

The kid reluctantly sends that, as if it’d explain everything.

In some ways, it does for certain. The imageries of the Trash-guy with all his “scum” and “trash” whilst on the same flight as Samatoki is enough to make him want to turn down the invitation at once – but at the same time, language doesn’t seem to be the kid’s only reason. He _is_ sort of the groom and the kid is sort of the bitch, so Samatoki has to deal with it either way. So, what’s the big deal?

In that same instance as when he thinks that, the world before them _morphs_ and Samatoki feels a sudden tugging sensation around his waist.

“The fuck?!”

He’s being tugged up into the sky. Way too fast for even Jyuto to activate his rain box to wash away the mist that had been obscuring the rope on his waist. (When did that happen anyways?!)

The last thing Samatoki takes note of as the forest draws out of view is, oddly enough, the crackling of the campfire Rio had been keeping alive. That certainly explains the shimmering heat he’d been feeling. (So it wasn’t just the grilled crow churning in his system.) Perhaps there was even some hidden mist mixed in with there too.

Then, he’s being pulled over the edge of a copter, affronted eyes glaring at the bastard who caught him. (Fucking fished him out of ‘Hama like he’s one of the harbour’s many fishes.)

Xanxus smirks.

“Yakuza Scum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm depressed... Very depressed. So many hits yet people are ghosting me kind of depressed. I wonder if this is common in KHR fandom... Please just leave something for me to tell me you liked it. Or that you finished this chapter. Doesn't matter what it is. I just want to know that people aren't clicking on this fic and dropping it half-way through.
> 
> Edit: you guys are the best! XD Woke up to all these comments/kudos/subs and i couldn’t believe my eyes! THANK YOU SO MUCH!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 
>     Scene 16-20: The Yakuza meets the Mafiaso.
>     This author remains unrepentant about deleting the previous C4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. I've deleted a chapter. Well, to begin with, it's not like I liked that chapter, so it's not that big a loss. I'm just quite sorry for the 300+ people who spent the time to read it. I'm sowwy! I myself wouldn't like to be put through 5000+ words to get no laughs, and in truth, that  _was_ what I got from reading that empty plot line. (Even if I'm really thankful to those who commented and said they enjoyed it, I can't help it, you know? The feeling like I'm letting down myself.) Therefore, I've returned to my original style - Snapshots, hopefully comical? - and there're hints of some...  _things_ so you guys can go ahead and enjoy even if you've read the deleted C4 (You might enjoy it more, even).
> 
> Now, onto Hypmic! For this chapter, there's actually no new Hypmic references you guys need to get since it's not from Samatoki's POV, but it's best to read this Hypmic Note if you want to appreciate Chapter 1 fully. (If you guys feel up to rereading it anyways.) You guys can skip this note if you just want to read C4, so go on! What are you waiting for?
>
>> ****
>>     
>>     
>>     *Please note these images do not belong to me. Picture credits are the CD covers of current Rap Battle Season.*  
>>     > 
>>     *Songs in Order of their Rap Battle if you're interested: [War, War, War](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/war-war-war) ; [Battle, Battle, Battle](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/battle-battle-battle)
>> 
>> In order of their appearance (Leaders up at front):
>
>> **[Yamada Ichiro](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune)** : The division leader of **[Ikebukuro Division, Buster Bros](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/ikebukuro-west-game-park)**. At age 19, he is the youngest amongst all leaders and the oldest of his division (which consists of his younger brothers). Known to have been taken in by Samatoki in his youth, he split up from the Dirty Dawg for reasons still unrevealed at present. However, his rivalry with Samatoki is famously known, and he openly shows disapproval for the way Samatoki does things. He is heterochromic like Mukuro (but with Green and Red) and he works as a Yorozuya to pay for his family bills. As he's the most estranged from Samatoki, you'll find him mentioned a lot.
>
>> **[Amemura Ramuda](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/drops)** : Division leader of **[Shibuya Division, Fling Posse](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/shibuya-marble-texture-pccs)**. Though he's 155cm and looks like a child, he's 24 years old. Sweet, manipulative, cute-sounding. Also a player who calls his girl-friends 'Onee-san!' You'll never catch him without a lolly in his mouth. Not much is known about him other than that he's hiding something under his guise. He works as a fashion designer, and he's really,  _really_ hates Jakurai. 
>
>> **[Jinguji Jakurai](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/dyvi8xapg7kx)** : Division leader of **[Shinjuku Division, Matenrou](https://soundcloud.com/miri-hatsune/shinjuku-style)**. In case you don't know, Shinjuku is a city for adults. At age 35 and 191cm, he's the oldest _and_ tallest of all Hypmic characters. Absolutely loathes Ramuda, although he's usually fond of interesting people. He's very philosophical due to his occupation as a doctor. He believes in using his rap to cure his patients of their mental ailments, and when drunk, he gets... very interesting. (Crazed.) 
>> 
>> I've linked their songs to their names and division names, so just listen if you're interested, will you? They're leaders, so virtually, they're the strongest of their division at raps. (I like their songs best.) 
> 
>  
> 
> Alright! With that, I end this note.
> 
> PS. If you guys liked the Intro Song to all chara of Hypmic, do click on the Battle Anthem linked in the story. It's the next song featuring all 12 chara.
> 
> Also, in case you guys aren't aware, Gate-Crashing is a Chinese wedding custom done to scare away spirits and misfortune. They usually consist of games to test the groom and his groomsmen, like flexibility tests, party games, and funny harmless things such as 10 reasons why (you love her).
> 
> They’re thus Vongola’s last chance to defend the virtue of their boss. 
> 
> This can't end well.

* * *

XVI. Gate-Crashing

* * *

 

“Let me go, please.” Tsuna whimpers.

“My~ Please be patient, Tsuna-san. This is for your own good.” Tiny slender hands pat his cheeks gently, a smile curving the previous sky arcobaleno’s lips.

Tsuna calls bullshit! How can being tied down by steel bars and flame-restricting chains be for his own good?! Please… Please just let him go already! His hyper intuition’s flaring painfully in his head – he knows for sure the mansion will be destroyed this time, so please!

Or…then again… he already knows they won’t listen.

Dropping his head in resignation, Tsuna lets out another whimper.

“It hasn’t even been five minutes and Vongola Decimo’s already in this state.” Byakuran muses, plopping in another marshmallow whilst Yuni smiles sympathetically. “Just as it’s always been, the one greatest enemy to the sanity of Vongola Decimo is his own famiglia. All is right in the state of the worlds~”

“As if it is!” Tsuna retorts, struggling. “To begin with, I haven’t heard the slightest thing about this—”

 _Bzzt._ His phone buzzes in his pocket. Tsuna stiffens.

“Oh dear,” Byakuran smiles mockingly as he trails a hand down his arse. Tsuna wriggles away from the creep. “That wouldn’t happen to be your one dear Samatoki-san, is it? Or should I call him ‘sama’?”

“How do you know him?!” His hyper intuition flares warningly on his senses.

“Well, of course I would. After the three hundredth time he ended up joining your famiglia, I know him well enough to the extent where it’s no surprise when I wake up naked in bed with him after a drunken night.” WHAT?! Tsuna watches with wide eyes as Byakuran places a palm on his own cheek, smoothly extracting the phone from his pocket. “Everyone in Vongola Famiglia more or less will have the same experience with that guy.”

“This is the worst…!” Tsuna slumps. He can’t tell if this guy is messing with him or not. Well, the world’s ruined anyways.

“Teasing Tsuna-san on his wedding day is bad manners, Byakuran.” Yuni reproaches with an amused curve to her lips.

“But~ It’s no fair that only poor Xanxus-kun has to be tested whilst my dear Vongola Decimo sits here and drinks tea.” The white-haired man whines.

“Do I look like I’m feeling that peaceful to you?” Tsuna sobs.

“Well, if you want me to be honest—” _Bzzt._ Another buzz of his phone. Byakuran looks down at it, intrigued. Tsuna wonders why he doesn’t have the slightest good feeling about this. He knows the world’s ending and his hopes are for naught (what’s new?) when the Millefiore Boss _smiles._

“Lookie here, Tsunayoshi-kun~! It seems like your texting buddy has joined the gate-crashing crew~!” His phone is waved before him. Through trained eyes, Tsuna’s able to pick up words that confirm his suspicions. ‘I’m gonna be one of your bitch’s groomsmen’, ‘You owe me a helluva debt for this, Sushi-Brat’, ‘Also, get ready for a world of hurt when I find ya. You’re gonna pay for making a fool of me, _Sawada Tsunayoshi_.’

Tsuna drops his head and sobs, long and hard into cold metal pressed up against his chin.

Where is all the fairness in this world again? The public ceremony has already reduced the Vongola stadium into nothing but flames and crumbles. Why can’t his private ceremony be a _calm, peaceful one_ for god’s sake?

“I’m gonna reply for you now, okay~?”

“WAIT—”

“Aaaand~ Sent!” Byakuran beams like a teenage schoolgirl high on sugar.

What did he just send?! No – what method is he using now to ruin Tsuna’s life?!

“Here you go, Tsu-chan~” The phone’s placed in his hand. Doesn’t help much when his arms are still literally plated to his torso. “The least we can do to help your famiglia-” to destroy his sanity, he presumes “-is to let you have a peek into the outside world.” Fond fingers tousle his hair. But Tsuna really doesn’t care much about that now, instead choosing to focus on _what the hell did Byakuran type._

[I’ll be waiting here in bed for you and Xanxan-chan~ ˶⚈Ɛ⚈˵]

[So be quick about it, okay??? o(^-^)o]

[ _Fuck you._ ]

The world is ruined. His life is ruined. Why did he ever choose to marry again?

“I’m gonna die.” He wails.

“Proud to be of service, Decimo!” Byakuran beams.

“I hope Xanxus-san does not see that message.” Yuni pats Tsuna gently on the back. Except, her words don’t help. He freezes (both him and Byakuran. That guy hasn’t considered that), he doubles over, still plated around the torso and arms and all.

“ _I’m gonna die._ ”

Yep. This time for certain.

 

* * *

 

[That wasn’t me, Samatoki-san]

First thing to do right after the [battle anthem](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJ-SE6dhjAg) starts playing over the speakers is to clear the misunderstanding.

[It was an old enemy who needs a good punch or two in his face]

“Hm? How mean, Tsunayoshi-kun~” Byakuran throws his head back and laughs where he’s perched on the arm rest of Tsuna’s office chair slash throne (One word: Reborn). Yuni’s the better tri-ni-set member obviously, just leaning over his shoulder whilst straining on tiptoes to look. It’s admittedly kind of cute. “But admit it. You want a threesome like that, don’t you?”

Tsuna drops his head and lets his fingers do the speaking.

[I’m so sorry for getting you involved in my life, Samatoki-san. （πーπ）]

“Don’t be sorry! Don’t be sorry~!” Byakuran sings chaos into his ears. “I’m sure that guy’s having plenty of fun in his own way~☆!”

Tsuna would reply, except his phone buzzes again.

[ _Get your fucking right-hand man to stop throwing dynamites then._ ]

[ _And your Sun to stop throwing boulders at us. How the fuck does he do that from a mile away!? Those are some huge ass motherfucking boulders too!_ ]

Mh. Tsuna knows. It’s the same ones that are fifteen times the size of him, the last he checked (slash Reborn tossed them at him with a ‘Ciaossu’ greeting).

“What kind of trials are Onii-san and Hayato giving them?” Tsuna asks through his tears to the two other skies by his side.

“Now, now, Tsuna-san. Here’s some tissues,” Yuni pats them against his eyes.

“Thank you.” He sniffles.

“Already in tears before you even leave your home? Not that you’re leaving, of course.” Byakuran laughs. He curls a hand into his white locks in thought. “If I remember clearly, the first five stations just have the rule of ‘pass us if you can’.” Of course. _Of course._ What else could it be? “Your Sun and your Storm are only the first amongst them.” Byakuran flashes a smile that hints at something far _worse._ “And the other three…” He trails off, beaming.

Tsuna would sob, but he feels kind of bad for Yuni who’s in charge of keeping his waterworks in check.

“The other three?” He asks, tired out.

“Let’s see here~” Byakuran pulls out a list from nowhere. Before he could answer though, his phone buzzes again in that increasingly alarming sound Tsuna’s getting traumatized by.

[ _Oi. Brat. Are your Mist and Cloud in heat or something?_ ]

Tsuna breaks down in tears.

[ _They’re going at it like I’ve never seen before. Your Mist’s calling your Cloud ‘fiesty’ even though he’s trying to bite off the flesh from his neck and stuff. Did you pent them up for this or something?_ ]

Tsuna’s alarmed. What kind of impression does Samatoki have of him now?!

[ _Man, you guys sure are into some fucking weird stuff, huh._ ]

‘You guys’…

[What did Xanxus tell you.]

Samatoki continues as if he didn’t even catch his message.

[ _There’s a fucking kid with a bull and a China girl in this room._ ]

Lambo. 1-Pin.

[ _Wants us to answer 10 questions? The fuck?! There’s actually a normal game in this for real?_ ]

Tsuna can’t believe his eyes either. Thank god for Lambo.

[ _Oi. Kid. What’s the name of your three siblings?_ ]

[Lambo. 1-Pin. And Fuuta.]

[ _Okay._ ]

[ _Oh. Look at the way he’s going. Charge it up, Lightning kid._ ] Tsuna can almost _hear_ the laughter in the other’s voice. What is going on there?! [ _Look. I even snapped a pic for you since you’re not in on the fun, Sushi-Brat. Enjoy._ ]

The sight of Leviathan lighting up like a Christmas tree with Lambo’s Gyuudon horn-deep in his stomach and the other members of Varia cackling by the sidelines is decidedly unappreciated. Tsuna’s thankful for the binds, because he’ll be doing some damage to himself if he isn’t bounded. “Why?” He’s blabbering, tears spilling over whilst Yuni tries her best to catch them all. “Just… why?”

“Did you really expect anything else, Vongola Decimo?” Byakuran laughs, pressing a marshmallow between his lips. His laughter sounds faintly like the laughter of the entire world directed at Tsuna’s life. “Here~! Some comfort food for you.” Byakuran presses his shitty idea of a comfort food plush against Tsuna’s lips.

For once, Tsuna accepts the treat, hoping the sweetness will wash away the salt of his tears.

It doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

[ _I hate you._ ]

Is the message that sends Tsuna’s heart jumping. Because that was a possibility he had been considering when he contemplated whether to invite Samatoki over to his wedding. (He’s a not-crime-lord in the midst of reforming the underworld. Samatoki’s on the edges of that world, ruling another underworld just some continents away. Who knows what’ll happen if their worlds clash?)

“Tsuna-san?” Yuni pauses in her gentle swiping, looking concerned. Blue eyes flicker down to skim over his chat. She firmly looks back at him. “It’s not what you think.”

“But- What if he really-?” Tsuna stumbles on his own words. (Waterworks stopping.)

He likes Samatoki, like a lot. He’s his friend. The supposed civvy who stands a whole world away from his, who he’s able to spill his agonies about his famiglia to without worrying of being taken advantage of. But that has been built upon the tacit agreement that they might never meet.

And now, they’re meeting. (Tsuna’s poor heart does another flop at the thought.)

“I swear, on my title as the previous Sky Arcobaleno, that it’s not what you’re thinking.” Yuni’s eyes are fierce despite her gentleness. Something warm but wet then touches Tsuna’s cheek.

He squeaks when he sees white out of the corner of his eyes. Byakuran just did _what?!_ He lifts both his legs (once again, plated together) to kick the Millefiore Boss away from him. He pants. That creep…!

“Ahaha~! How violent~ You’re not losing touch afterall.” Byakuran then grimaces, touching where he’s been kicked.

“D-Don’t touch me!” Tsuna squeaks. It’s already enough that Xanxus’ gonna massacre him for that other message. Sent by him or not.

“Byakuran, you’re wooing a married man.” Yuni points out innocently, with none of that innocence in her words.

“He’s not legally married yet.” Points out the other man.

“But we’ve already celebrated the official ceremony with the alliance…”

“Oh, and his cherry’s already been popped by Xanxan _years_ back. You have a point.”

“Does that mean Tsuna-san is having a shotgun marriage?”

“Oh. But Tsunayoshi-kun isn’t _knocked up_ now, is he?” Byakuran asks in a light fluttery tone. His smile turns evil. “We should check—”

Tsuna hangs his head.

“Can you two please don’t join in on the chaos and embarrass me too? I’ve already had enough—”

“Yooosh~ Distraction complete.” Byakuran interrupts in a sing-song tone. He laughs airily. Tsuna’s phone buzzes. What-? A gentle tiny hand settles on the crook of his shoulders. Yuni’s smile is supportive, even if slightly deadpanning at Byakuran when he rejoins them, and her words are encouraging.

“Everyone participating in this ceremony are here to celebrate you, Tsuna-san.”

What – What does she even _mean_ -?

He looks down at the message coming from Kyoko.

And brown eyes widen.

“W-What-?” Tsuna burst out in soft, tearful laughs. “What are they _wearing_?”

Mickey mouse ears. Pink and yellow dresses. Heart shaped and star-shaped wands. There’s an unfamiliar man ( _Samatoki_ ) with an ugly hot pink wig over his head, grumbling while pointing his middle-finger to the camera. Xanxus has his eyes closed, legs folded as he seats on a lightning-charred Leviathan (who’s kneeling down to act as a makeshift chair). He looks cool as ever. (And Tsuna might be a bit biased, but he is.)

“ _This_ was what he was referring to?” Tsuna chuckles through tears. “What’s up with that…?”

Another message from Samatoki buzzes his phone.

[ _Do you seriously like being fucked in the sky by your goddamn bitch?_ ]

Tsuna blanks out. (=.=)

[ _Exhibition kink? On top of the Eiffel Tower?_ ] He hears the whistle that’s there. [ _Nice._ ]

…What is the other saying?

How did he find out?

[ _Fucking Trash says he likes the way you stroke his head when you think he’s asleep._ ]

[ _And the way you stroke his insides when you’re the one doing the fucking._ ]

[ _Didn’t know you already grew enough hair down there to do that, Brat._ ]

“…”

“They must be at the ’10 Reasons Why’ station manned by the Chiavallone and Shimon.” Byakuran beams. “Isn’t that nice? Apparently, your husband is pleased by your sexual appetite. Well, on the flip side, that means you’ve gonna have trouble upping the level when you’re old and wrinkled.”

“We should do our best to help as his well-meaning acquaintances.” Yuni has her lips set in a determined line.

“Sure~ I’ll look up S&M on my phone now. You look into the future and see what’s Xanxan would like best.”

“Understood.”

Tsuna just –

Tsuna just wants to vanish and become a star.

 

* * *

 

More ridiculous messages come.

[ _There’s a fucking Rio here with goddamn deadly levels of poison in her fucking food._ ]

[ _Fuck. Is this what Rio’s gonna become in the future? Where’s the nearest fucking toilet?!_ ]

[ _You never told me there’s another Sushi-Brat here, Brat._ ]

[ _His hands are God._ ]

[ _Oi. What the fuck do I even call you now?_ ]

It’s ridiculous. It’s insane. Reborn probably figured Takeshi’s rain-infused food will calm the chaos that’s ravaging the Varia’s stomach after Bianchi’s storm-foods. Tsuna pities their digestive systems, and yet… _and yet._ He found himself laughing through it, somehow thoroughly entertained by Samatoki’s messages.

Xanxus. Varia. Samatoki. They’re putting themselves through so much just to get to him. Oh, and his famiglia’s working so hard to put them through rigorous tests. To make sure Xanxus’ the right one for him.

Tsuna is blessed.

_BOOM!_

The doors fly out of their hinges. They narrowly avoid hitting Tsuna’s desk.

“Finally.” Xanxus lowers his guns.

And he narrows his eyes at the two skies draping off Tsuna’s sides.

“Sawada Tsunayoshi.” He says in that tone of his that points to a whole night of painful sex till Tsuna can’t even _talk._

Byakuran blinks. And smiles. And calmly picks up Yuni in a Princess-cradle to tiptoe away.

“Don’t leave me behind!!!” Tsuna cries, wriggling in his steel bindings. He cowers under the eyes of his intimidating husband. Oh, he’s not blessed. Why did he ever think he’s blessed? Xanxus was on his way to _kill_ him, for god’s sake.

“Fucking Brat.” Scoffs another voice.

And for the first time ever, Tsuna sees Samatoki there in person, a man with wild white locks and eyes as red as Xanxus’, dressed in skull-emblemed shirt and decorated with accessories. That’s… not how he imagined his fairy godmother to look like.

“What did you just say, you little brat?!” Samatoki grabs him by the collar.

He’s a lot scarier in real life than on the screen of his phone, so Tsuna screams.

“HIIIIH! I’M SO SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME, SAMATOKI-SAMA!”

He’s dropped on his bum.

“You have a lot to explain to me when all of this is over.” Samatoki snorts.

“I’m…” Tsuna wonders if he’s mad. He falls back to his fourteen-year-old habits. Averts his gaze, winces, the way Vongola Decimo shouldn’t. (The way Sawada Tsunayoshi would.) “Really sorry—”

“Until then,” Continues Samatoki as if he hadn’t heard him. He plants one foot on top of Tsuna’s newly bought desk, couple inches right beside Tsuna’s head, and he leans forward to burn smothering red eyes into his. “You’re gonna fucking enjoy this hell of a chaos that’s your family, and you’re gonna spend your big day worry-free. ‘Cause I’m gonna be staying here till the last second to beat you up if I see you agonize the slightest fucking bit about my presence.” He smirks. “Alright?”

Tsuna is breathless.

“A…Alright.”

“Good.” It feels like being patted over the head in some odd, twisted sense. Samatoki grins regally across the desk. “With that, I’m leaving this hairless brat in your hands, you fucked up scum. Go ahead and fuck his brains out or whatever.”

He pulls Tsuna up by the collar of his shirt with a soft curse at ‘fucking Vongola and their messed up customs. What the hell’s up with this steel plating?’ (Tsuna’s the one who wants to know!)

“Yeah.” Xanxus says merely.

Tsuna doesn’t really take notice of him till he’s put in his scarred arms. The look in his eyes when Xanxus turns his head to peer down at him has him squeaking. _Oh no._ Oh fucking no. He has an aisle to walk down later, with _Reborn_ by his arms. He’ll be _destroyed_ if he’s incapable of walking straight and – and Xanxus’ clearly not intending to let him do that now.

“Let’s get the fuck out. They’re going to fuck.” Samatoki pulls the charred, purple-looking thing on the ground (that’s Leviathan) along by its hair.

“VOIII! WHO’RE YOU TO GIVE US ORDERS?!” Squalo yells.

“The fucking best man.” Samatoki deadpans at him.

Tsuna’s eyes bulge. When did _that_ happen?!

No, more importantly—

“Samatoki-sama!” He can’t do this. No. He whimpers under the painful nip Xanxus gives to his fingers. No way. No way. No _fucking_ way, please! “PLEASE HELP ME—”

“I’ve got no interest in flame sex as a threesome, kid. I’d do gangbangs though.”

Tsuna’s jaw drops. He watches the door close behind Varia and Co. (Co. being his fairy godmother who turns out less saintly than Tsuna wished.) …Was that why Byakuran said everyone would wake up naked with him at some point of time? No. To begin with—

Tsuna gasps at the feral bite to his neck, tears leaping to his eyes.

“THAT MESSAGE REALLY ISN’T SENT BY ME!”

 

* * *

XVII. Aisle

* * *

 

 _“Just leave the private ceremony to me!”_ Hayato had said.

 _“We’ll make the best of all ceremonies for you!”_ The girls had giggled.

 _“Do you really not trust your guardians so much?”_ Reborn had smirked with the barrel of his gun cocked at Tsuna’s head. He mocks with his babyish voice from long before. _“What a shame, Dame-Tsuna. And after we put in so much effort for you.”_

Tsuna didn’t have the guts then to reply with the one thing he wanted so much to.

_It’s not them I don’t trust, it’s YOU!!!_

Sure enough, all the private wedding procedures are kept under wraps from him. Tsuna doesn’t know a single thing about what to expect. He’d just seen the others in their various coloured suits, all either with buttons ripped out or ties loosened or – in Kyoya’s case, utterly torn to shreds in favour of a replacement with a traditional kimono. Visconti was drinking away his sorrows with Timoteo, Tsuna could see. Tsuna couldn’t see more, because Reborn had then squashed his head into the ground with his heel and promised to help Vongola Decimo un-see the details. Tsuna vaguely remembers dreaming of waking up on a medical table under Verde’s glinting gaze.

Then, the gate-crashing happened.

Then, Xanxus happens.

Then, he wakes up dangling from one of Reborn’s arms, being dragged down the aisle in his newly clothed state. Tsuna highly doubts it’s Xanxus who dressed him.

Through sparkling lights and a pounding head that barely rivals the pain in his ass, Tsuna sees Reborn smirk down at him.

“Awake yet? Dame-Tsuna?” His voice has the same effect as a gun being cocked at him.

Tsuna desperately tries to stand and ends up falling – then squeaking at the blood flow being cut off in his arm, because _Ittaitaitai! That hurts, Reborn!_ But being who he is, all he can do is swallow those words and force a weak smile up at his positively beaming tutor.

“T-Thanks, Reborn.” For not killing him. And for walking down the aisle with him. It’s more happiness than Tsuna can put into words to have the meaning behind that acknowledged.

Reborn closes his eyes for a moment. Tsuna would like to think it’s their long bond settling in. Then, when he opens his eyes, there’s that positively nasty glint sparkling in his eyes, a curl to his smirk that’s far too pleased by Tsuna’s words. Tsuna’s hyper intuition sparks off at once. He stiffens in the other’s grasp, trained senses exploding in range to take in every inch of the church he’s in. (Because. It’s _Reborn._ )

“ _You’re welcome_ , Dame-Tsuna.” Reborn beams.

And it’s then that Tsuna’s gaze is caught by the pastor.

He’s dressed in the usual robes, but there’s a stubble around his chin that’s out of the norm for the occupation. Tsuna feels like screaming when the pastor turns and smiles at down at him with a huff. _It’s Shamal_ , in a bloody _pastor’s_ robes. (Who allowed this guy to obtain a license?! Actually, forget it. It’s Reborn.)

It’s when he turns around that his face loses all colour and he remembers who their bridesmaids and groomsmen are again.

The first pair is normal enough.

Ryohei and Hana struts down, steps in tandem. A lopsided, languid smile is flashed by Hana. Ryohei looks so excited he’s in the midst of yet another “EXTRE—” again when Hana smacks him one over the head. His whines are soft. Hana huffs with folded arms, and she beams at Tsuna’s mouthed ‘Thank you’. She’s the only sane one around here. (Leaving her absolute fear of children behind.)

… _Then._ It’s the ones thereafter that are a headache.

“Guhahahaha! Look! 1-Pin! All of these people are here waiting for me to come!”

“Don’t, Lambo!”

Tsuna loves his siblings, really he does, but he has quite enough of explosions and Lambo running around and untimely visits to the future. (Future Xanxus is _not_ kind.) Somehow, 1-Pin manages to rehook her arm around Lambo’s and all, and that’s fine if not for Tsuna’s hyper intuition going nuts on him because –

A single purple grenade falls out of Lambo’s head.

“Lambo! 1-Pin!” He screeches, falling when he tries to race over.

And the two children freeze, one with snot pouring down his nose. The other with parted lips.

The grenade bounces on the ground and hits a pair of boots.

“Hm? What’s up with this?” Takeshi laughs, picking it up.

“It must be a new type of candy! Lambo-chan does love sweets.” Kyoko buries a giggle in her hands.

“Ah! I see!” Takeshi laughs.

Tsuna wants to wail so much he wants to laugh with them. Ahahaha… What joke has his life become?

 _“Catch! Baseball Idiot!”_ Echoes Hayato in the distance.

Brown eyes sharpen. The grenade’s tossed out the window with a blast. The pair’s in awe about the ‘fireworks’ as they continue strutting down the aisle. Tsuna thanks heavens for Hayato. Who knew how long Takeshi was intending on trying to be oblivious about bombs?

The pairings thus far are logical enough. Takeshi is Takeshi, Kyoko is Kyoko. The kids and his sun guardian go without a word. But… It’s what follows thereafter that’s _truly_ problematic. Tsuna wants to screech and pull his hair out when he thinks of all the possible line-ups and chaos. Reborn’s smirking by his side. His arm’s still slowly dying of oxygen-deprivation in his grip.

“Don’t look away, Dame-Tsuna.” He says. Tsuna’s already on his knees, and he wants to wail. (Nevermind the image that this paints.) “What’s following these three is my very own little gift to you.”

“I don’t need that kind of gift at all!” Tsuna sobs.

The first hint of what comes next is ‘Hahi!’ The second is Haru’s deathly pale face when she shows up at the door face, fingers just barely – barely! – gracing the edges of a black haori Tsuna vaguely recalls. Forget screams. Tsuna’s outright sobbing into his own sleeve when _Kyoya_ of all people shows up, arms folded in his haori, Haru’s grip on his sleeve seemingly ignored and all seems at peace – except his green yukata’s _stained in blood!_

“Hibari decided to pick a fight with Mukuro today.” Reborn explains needlessly. He smiles smugly. “The result’s just as you can see.”

“Why…?” God. He’s in a church, right? Is somebody up there listening to him? “Just…why?” He wants to die. Maybe… Is he already dead?

Silver eyes shift from one side of the church to the other.

“Herbivores.”

The word that’s spitted out has all the mafiaso in the room tensing.

With a flair, Kyoya pulls away from Haru (who _hahi_ ’s) and stalks towards the window.

Tsuna watches with a mix of incredulity and relief when he leaps out.

“I don’t know how to feel about that.” He absently takes note of Haru panicking in the middle of the aisle and looking around desperately.

“Don’t worry.” Reborn states, smiling.

 _Belphegor_ walks out of the doors, ‘Shishishi’-ing, and takes Haru by the arm.

“All mafiasos are gentlemen.” He smoothly finishes.

It’s at this point that Tsuna starts hitting his head on the nearest table. “Why?! Oh god, why?!” He whimpers through tears of blood. There’s that warning tingling of his hyper intuition which urges him to look up. Haru looks bewildered by Belphegor’s strange code of dress, or more specifically his tiara. Belphegor murmurs something to her beneath his breath with a finger to his lips (“Shishishi. Don’t tell anyone but I’m a Prince.” He grins.) and Haru _melts_. (Something in Tsuna tells him this won’t be a good pairing.)

“Why is this my life?” Tsuna chokes on a sob. He can’t believe this.

“Next up.”

Tsuna squints.

It’s…Mukuro and Chrome. But there’s nothing chaotic about them.

“This is why men who are attached are pathetic creatures.” Reborn scoffs. Tsuna ignores the jab to himself and tries to focus on Mukuro, who’s… deathly pale? “That one’s been fully whipped by his wife.”

Chrome smiles demurely at the crowd and tugs her lifeless husband towards the front row. Tsuna’s not sure whether or not to be grateful for that. (He’ll lighten the punishment for Mukuro later. For, you know, destroying half the mansion.)

“How boring.” Reborn shrugs.

Tsuna prods the arm that’s a deathly tight grip on his one.

“Don’t talk about people’s happiness that way.” He reproaches. His happiness for one.

“What’s happiness when you have insanity?” Reborn’s life motto is highly dubious as usual.

Then.

_Varia happens._

“HELLO~ LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! How are you doing on a gorgeous day like this?!” Lussuria walks out with his arm hooked loosely around a green-looking Lussuria. Tsuna thinks his heart stops for a moment when the okama begins blowing kisses all around the church. “My name is Lussuria ☆! Currently age 30, I’m single and looking for a good boyfriend! Anyone who has nice muscles or nice organs, feel free to approach me after this, okay ☆?!”

What is he going to do with ‘nice organs’?!

It’s at this point Tsuna decides to stop caring. Ah. Maybe that’ll be easier. Varia’s going to be his in-laws afterall. He’s got to get used to their insanity.

“Stop that, Lussuria!” Leviathan reproaches, looking constipated. His rugged hands twitch awkwardly where they’ve been holding Lussuria’s. “We’re on a mission! As Boss’s devoted guardians, it’s the least we can do to make this wedding his best one!” Why is he talking as if Xanxus’ gonna have multiple weddings?! Can he have any lesser faith in Tsuna?!

Lussuria pauses, gives Leviathan a look, and then releases his already loose grip on his arm to stand as far as possible in the aisle.

“Call me at 7XXX-XXXX if you’re interested, ne~♡?!” Lussuria waves his hands to the crowd.

“What?!” Leviathan has a shell-shocked look at the blatant rejection.

Ahh… You know. It’s that. It’s how Varia always is. It’s how the rest of Tsuna’s life is going to be. A joke, amongst assassins. Just… _Eff._ Tsuna buries his face in his palms. What chaos did he just decide to marry into?!

“You know, me actually love Sempai lots despite how I seem.” Fran’s voice trickles over. The clicks of heels and boots against the ground are casual.

Fran and Bianchi. The only ones remaining. (It’s finally going to end.)

“I put in my best to make the best-tasting mercury cake for him. And I also wear this ridiculous hat for him. But for some reason, it’s just not working.” He complains in a deadpan. “Bianchi-san, could you possibly give me any advice?”

“Such a thing… Obviously, when your love’s not working, it just shows that you’re showing it wrongly!” Bianchi declares, every bit as smooth and elegant as her long ballroom gown is. “Come, boy! I’ll guide you on the correct ways of showing your love! We must get started immediately, so make sure you gather some poison scorpion and human skulls ASAP!” What is she planning to make with those?! Or rather… Tsuna wishes she won’t teach her ways of ‘loving’ someone!

“Uwah~ Thank you, Master.” Fran is still deadpanning. “In that case, can we also put in some cow’s penis? I heard they’ve got some magical doki-doki abilities when I was procuring them in East Atlantic.” That is so blatantly a lie!

Tell him, Bianchi! Tell him you don’t believe it!

“Sure! We could even use some *** or %%% or $$$ if you want!”

“…” Tsuna thinks his ears are forever ruined. And here he thought his mind couldn’t get any more sullied. Aaaah… He’s so freaking tired of each and every one of this. All this blatant display of his famiglia’s insanity seems to be the gate-crashing he never had to do for Xanxus. He just wants to hug and kiss his soon-to-be husband already.

Hayato and Squalo come next.

They’re linking hands. Their veins are popping out. They’re clashing heads. Tsuna wishes they wouldn’t try so hard for him and Xanxus if they’re going to be so blatant about it.

He buries his face in his knees and sobs, long and hard, as he listens to the bleeping vulgarities that are spilling from their lips. He can’t censor this out. Something about Xanxus possibly killing him with a dick and him choking Xanxus to death? That’s it. That’s the end of the line for Tsuna’s secrets, because it seems like all his kinks have been blown out into the open and blown out of proportion too. His ego’s utterly thrashed and his pitiful heart too worn by the end of this long, wretched journey. (Reborn’s satisfaction pours off him in waves beside him.)

It’s then that in the middle of the darkness that’s his knees pressed up against his eyes, he hears the unfamiliar voice of his fairy godmother.

“Oi, Brat! I’ve come all this way with your bitch and you won’t even _look_ at him? There’s a limit to how much of a wimp you can be!” Samatoki sneers.

Tsuna looks up.

And it’s then, seeing Xanxus in a white suit with a black innershirt standing at the entrance of that long, _long_ aisle, that it finally hits him for the first time.

_He’s marrying Xanxus._

Holy shit.

Fairy Godmot – Samatoki scoffs as he nudges his husband-to-be on the shoulder.

“How the hell did I end up escorting you anyways, wifey?”

“Never said you had to, Scum.” Xanxus tosses back.

And his eyes soften when he turns to peer straight forward at Tsuna.

Steps are then taken towards him.

Tsuna barely registers the feeling his arm’s gradually regaining, released by Reborn.

He barely notices that Samatoki’s following. All he can see is how that white suit’s dressing up Xanxus. It doesn’t fit him as well as his Varia Trench Coat. That genuine fur scarf though. It makes him look like he’s _him_. And god, Tsuna doesn’t know why, but he feels his vision starting to blur and warm up even though it shouldn’t do that. It isn’t worth it, to blink and miss a second of Xanxus approaching him. (He doesn’t even notice his fairy godmother walking off to join the other two bickering bestman. A gruff huff of “Hurt him and you’ll regret it.”) It’s not worth it, to let his vision blur with tears when he wants to see this properly.

In the end, he still blinks and his vision clears with the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Xanxus squats down before him – a pathetic man who’s not even able to _stand_ for his own wedding. And gruff, warm hands hesitate before they reach out to grab his face.

Tsuna burst into tears, helpless, wrecked sobs. He’s certain he must look so pathetic no one in the crowd wants to even look at him. But Xanxus peers on regardless with red eyes that are blurry in Tsuna’s vision. Tan cheeks and jaw are slightly too tight to be anything but emotional. Tsuna reaches up and chases the other’s face with his hands.

_He’s here. They’re here. They’re finally here after each and everything they’ve gone through._

“Don’t cry.” Tsuna laughs tearfully, even though he’s the one crying.

Xanxus grabs onto his hands for a short moment in which he seemed about to pull them away, as if he’s undeserving of it. But instead, he clings on and presses Tsuna’s hands close to his face.

“Don’t leave.” Xanxus chokes out gruffly, lips mouthing the words into Tsuna’s palm, muffled and soft. The first and only one of his unshed tears plop out. It slides down his tan cheeks beautifully. “Don’t leave me ever. Scum.” He adds like an afterthought. (Not like his mother. Not like his father figure who froze his heart in ice till Tsuna thawed it. Not like each and every one of his brothers who died without a struggle.)

And Tsuna can’t help but laugh and throw his arms around Xanxus’ shoulders, pulling him in for that customary kiss. It’s soft and tender against his lips.

“I won’t. I won’t leave you ever. I promise.” He swears to god, he’ll do everything in his capability to never leave. As Vongola Decimo or not.

It’s then that Tsuna blinks and remembers they’re in the midst of marrying.

Tilting his head back up to the sight of a bemused Shamal (because they’re both ridiculous and still sprawled out on the ground, clinging onto each other), Tsuna throws in absently.

“I do.”

Shamal blinks. He sighs, dragging a palm down his own face.

“You’re suppose to say that _after_ I recite this long list.” He waves said list in Tsuna’s face, looking troubled. “What am I to do with this now?”

“Feed it to the shark or something.” Xanxus mumbles into Tsuna’s neck.

“VOI! WHO WOULD EAT YOUR SHITTY MARRIAGE PLEDGE?!"

And all is fine in the world, because he has Xanxus right beside him.

 

* * *

XVIII. Wedding Speech

* * *

 

Samatoki has no idea how to write a fucking wedding speech. What is that even? The most he ever had to write was an essay back in Middle School from a low-class worker to a real Juliet with her motherfucking high-class family. And he’d thrown that out for the dogs to eat, flipping his that fucking teacher off for the rest of the year. (That damn guy still chased after him for it the last time Samatoki ran into him at the mall. That was a month ago.)

So. Samatoki being who he is, he walks up the stage empty-handed after the Vongola Self-Proclaimed Right-Hand-Man (there’s no way he’s being serious, right? The fucktard was screaming and crying just hours ago while flinging dynamites) and the Sword Emperor make their god awful speeches. (The ex-arcobaleno gave into their long-expired baby instincts and fell asleep within the first hour of the speech given by the nerd; the other one simply started a war with the Vongola Guardians, because “WE’RE FINE WITH THAT USELESS BOSS MARRYING INTO OUR VARIA! IT’S JUST _THESE_ BASTARDS WE’VE GOT AN ISSUE WITH!” “What was that, you greying old man?!” Grey-haired Puppy Number 2 storms up the stage. The two puppies clash heads. “HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR, VOI?!”)

Immediately, all eyes are scrutinizing him. (Ones that aren’t drunk out of their weak asses or busy running around chasing after fucking explosive brats or too busy trying to use this wedding as a fucking mixer anyways.)

Samatoki has no nerves. (No. Actually, he’s pretty nervous. Fucking world’s strongest hitman is looking on contemplatively.) So he takes a long breath and admits.

“I haven’t got the slightest fucking clue what I’m doing here.”

That admission draws out drunken laughs from the drunken batch. Samatoki feels ready to burst a vein at them. They are pretty infuriating. Blondie especially. (“He looked so cute in a dress too!” Dino points out. “S-Shh!” Enma shushes.)

But well. Might as well spill his guts here, or the Brat would say he’s lacking in balls.

“One fucking moment, I’m inside my apartment, lamenting the stupid sop story that’s my past.” Samatoki bears out, looking at the brat. Brown eyes brighten in realization. “And the next, I’m receiving a stupid fucking mistext from a stupid fucking brat who doesn’t know how to type right. Honestly, who the hell even miss _omelettes_ if they’re from Japan?” Samatoki narrows his eyes. “If you’re from Japan, it should be _curry rice_. Ain’t I right?”

(“Curry rice… Lambo-san wants curry rice now!”

“Oi! Who was the one who let the cow take a sip of alcohol?!”

A hand is raised half-heartedly into the air. Bianchi narrows her eyes at the hiccupping Chiavallone. “It’s meeeee...hic”)

“Next thing I knew, I somehow ended up becoming a fucking counsellor to a lil’ fucker. Story of my life, really.” Samatoki shrugs. “Picking fights and taking in brats who aren’t my own, counselling them in the middle of the fucking night even though it’s 1AM half way around the world back in Japan. The kid caused me lots of grief.”

Tsuna winces. He can fuck off for all Samatoki cares.

“But despite that, he’s a good Brat.” Samatoki sees how many nods there are in the goddamn huge ass crowd. He thinks he doesn’t need to elaborate. “I owe him lots.” That about sums up the number of days he’d spent waking up sweating in his own bed. It just about sums up the distraction the brat’s provided _knowingly_ from his agony. Then there’s the sushi matter too. Fuck. There’s just no end to the amount he owes him.

Samatoki can only use a lifetime to repay this guy (hell, he’ll spend his whole life counselling him if he has to). But that’s not the point at the moment. The point is-

“Now, I don’t really care how well I know you by now, you little motherfucking trash-scum.” Samatoki catches the way red eyes narrow. “Yeah. You there. I’m speaking to you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about how much daddy problems you have.” (One of the knocked-out drunkards snooze peacefully, oblivious to the heads that swivel around to look at him.)

“Or how tragic your entire life story is.” (“Boss _is_ pretty pitiful if you look at his history.” Fran deadpans. “Not now, shh!” Lussuria presses a finger to his lips.)

“Or how much you just want to fuck the life out of him.” (“VOI! WE DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW THAT!” A wine glass is tossed at the Shark. “Shut up.” Xanxus growls.)

“If you ever make the Brat cry out of anything that’s not happiness or overstimulation, know that I’ll definitely come for you.” Samatoki narrows his eyes at the bastard. “It doesn’t matter how far away I am or what time it is. Because if the Brat ever comes to me over the phone and cries to me about your relationship failure, know that I’ll be coming here, by hook or by crook, and I’ll end it.” Samatoki snaps his fingers. A flicker of storm flames spark. “Just like that. Since I was apparently the bastard who got you guys together.”

Red eyes glimmer. Scarred hands tighten briefly where the Brat’s leaning into. Bastard seems to get it. Samatoki huffs.

Looking around, he catches Tsuna’s gaze with his own. The Brat’s sniffling again. Brat’s tear ducts sure are weak today. And his mouth is opening, and his eyes are widening, and he seems to pointing to something—

“— _THREE!”_

Heavy bodies throw Samatoki to the ground. The fuck-?! His eyes bulge when more heavy bodies dogpile his own, the fucking drunkards also wandering over to join them. Even the kids are dogpiling him for god sake! What the hell!?

“Heheheh… This is our revenge for your fucking meddling…” Puppy Number Two dares to snicker at him, even as he grunts under the weight of yet another body. He looks pretty half-dead himself. “Who told you to go pair that fucking bastard together with the Tenth?! You should have chosen someone better! Someone more… more…” The Puppy gives up. “Hell, even that bastard Chiavallone could have been better!”

“The hell he would! It would have been something like incest, you little cocky shit!” Samatoki hisses. He gets his breath knocked out of him by yet another body that leaps onto the growing pile. “— _Fuck!_ Fran! You fucking backstabber! I thought you were on my side!”

“Boo-Boo.” The little mist crosses his fingers. “I’m on Varia’s side. And you just insulted my Boss so I’m joining this cuddle pile.”

“Do you have any idea how goddamn heavy this is?!” Crushed…! He’s getting crushed…!

“Idiot~ That’s why we’re doing this, Shishishi~”

“Ah, Sempai. Can you please don’t hump against my back? I have no interest in relationships without commitment.”

“Just shut your mouth and enjoy it.”

Samatoki’s eyes twitch uncontrollably. What the _fuck_ are these bastards doing on his back?

“… _Enough._ ” He growls, reaching down for his hypnosis microphone. The first howl he blasts into it - _flames out,_ child’s gloves _off_ \- sends the bunch off him, collapsing into their very own goddamn body pile. Samatoki looms over them, mic in hand as he glares down at them, dark-faced. “ _Come at me, fucking Vongola Bastards.”_ His vein throbs on the side of his face. “Each and every one of you always causing me to lose sleep because of the brat’s complaining… _Come if you dare, you fuckers_!”

(“Aha~! He’s snapped~!” Byakuran decorates the edge of his champagne glass with another marshmallow.

“Should you really be sounding this amused about that? Byakuran?” Yuni smiles serenely.)

Off to the sidelines, Tsuna merely sighs softly, a smile gracing his lips as he looks on at the chaotic scene.

“I’m so glad that we got to meet him.” He tucks his fingers between Xanxus’ wider ones.

Xanxus smirks smugly down at him.

“Told you you wouldn’t regret inviting him.” He leans in to touch foreheads with him.

“Only after you’re halfway to Yokohama, yeah.” Tsuna replies dryly, lips curving up.

_“COME THE FUCK UP HERE TOO, YOU FUCKING BRAT AND BASTARD! I’VE GOT A SHITLOAD OF THINGS TO PICK WITH YOU GUYS TOO—KUH…! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT FUCKING HURTS, YOU LIL SHIT?! WIRES, REALLY?!”_

 

* * *

XIX. Vongola Famiglia

* * *

 

[ **So, how did you find him? Wasn’t he a good guy?** ]

[ **Hell no. He’s the worst possible bastard possible for Tenth to make friends with.** ]

[ **Now, don’t be so stubborn, Hayato! It’s about time for Tsuna to leave the nest anyways. Do you know how many marriage interviews came this month? It’s…er…** ]

[ **386 and counting.** ]

[ **Yeah! It’s that!** ]

[ **…Tch. You never change no matter how many years pass by, Baseball Idiot.** ]

[ **I know already, alright? That Tenth needs friends beside us… that we can’t be enough for him forever.** ]

[ **Tenth is of civilian background in the end…** ]

[ **That’s not what I’m talking about!** ]

[ **Hah?** ]

[ **That guy! Did you like him or not? That’s all I’m asking!** ]

[ **No need to get all depressed on me now! Tsuna never said we’re not enough, right?** ]

[ **Have more confidence in yourself!** ]

[ **Well… Even if we are, Tenth would be too selfless to ever say so.** ]

[ **That guy… I don’t think I can ever get along with him.** ]

[ **Eh? Why? He seemed like a fairly good guy to me too!** ]

[ **Anyone seems nice to you, Baseball Idiot! If I have to say either ways… It’s because of age. That guy’s a fucking old geezer compared to us.** ]

[ **Come on, it’s only 4 years now!** ]

[ **Older is older.** ]

[ **Just look at that hair of his.** ]

[ **Definitely a punk, that one.** ]

[ **You’re one to say! XD** ]

[ **What was that, BASTARD?!** ]

[ **Well… That’s just typical of you too! (^o^)** ]

[ **What the hell does that mean?!** ]

[ **In any case, regardless of my personal feelings on the matter, we’re still going to add him to the list of Vongola’s protected civvies.** ]

[ **Any friend of Tsuna is a person we’ll fight to defend. Yakuza or not, scum or not. We’ll defend every last bit of Tsuna’s home to death** ]

[ **Ah, geez! You should really just call him Tsuna to his face already, y’know!** ]

[ **It’s things like that which puts distance between you guys haha** ]

[ **LIKE HELL I WOULD YOU IDIOT!** ]

[ **TSUNA’S WAY TOO GOOD FOR ME!** ]

[ **Okay, okay, I get it~! Stop using Caps Lock on me!** ]

[ **By the way, have you seen Tsuna around? I lost track of him a while ago.** ]

 

* * *

XX. Naked

* * *

 

Sawada Tsunayoshi wakes up, naked, to warmth on both his front and his back. His first instinct is to naturally snuggle into the warmth up front. His second is to open his eyes, which very damn well peeled open at the sight of white because – _eh? Xanxus doesn’t have white hair? Or rather, that shade of white’s looking pretty familiar now that he thinks of it. Oh **fuck**. It’s Samatoki._

Whether it’s Byakuran’s premonition coming true or him jinxing them, Tsuna doesn’t know. (Well, at least it’s not Byakuran himself in front of him.) All he does is pull a hand down his face and lie back down to snuggle into Xanxus. Because his tear ducts have been dried up during the wedding, his eyes are sore; He can’t keep them open long enough to worry. And more importantly, there’s no sloppy fluids on him. As in, at all. That must mean they’re still white, right?

The next time Tsuna wakes up, it’s to Samatoki’s arms around both him and Xanxus, the top of his chin propped on the top of his head.

Aw. What. This actually feels kind of good.

That’s the thought that lingers in his mind till logic settles in and the urge to screech grows too strong. It’s then that he peels himself off them reluctantly and pants bloody murder into his palms.

Xanxus looks pretty much the same when he returns from the shower to see him. He looks like he’s on the verge of ending himself. As a matter of fact, Xanxus had a fistful of flames of wrath he’s looking contemplatively at when Tsuna stumbles in. Tsuna, being Tsuna, leaps at Xanxus like he did Takeshi nearly half a decade back and straddles him, pinning strong wrists down.

“I woke up with you guys before you.” Tsuna croaks sleepily. “I was there too, okay? It felt nice, doesn’t it?”

Samatoki must have some sort of magical cuddling powers or something. Tsuna cards his fingers through Xanxus’ hair with a hand. His love closes his eyes in content.

“Nothing happened?” Xanxus rumbles, smothering eyes slightly troubled as he catches and kiss his palm.

“Nothing happened.” Tsuna confirms, planting a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Bloody hell. As if nothing’s happened.” Samatoki curses, voice rough with sleep as he squints at them with bloodshot eyes. “Must you really do it this early in the morning? You guys sure have some insane fucking stamina.” He rolls his shoulders, groans at the cracks he hears. He’s donning his boxers when he steps out of their sheets, nudging Tsuna with a foot from where he was (embarrassingly) straddling Xanxus. “Don’t do that with me around.” He drags his shirt out from under Xanxus.

Tsuna takes a moment for it to sink in.

“…Oh god. Something happened?” He sinks into his palms the same way realization does.

“Like, obviously?” Samatoki lifts a brow.

“I’m so sorry, Xanxus.” Tsuna whimpers into the Varia Boss’s chest.

“It takes two fucking hands to clap.” Xanxus replies, equally disconcerted. Red eyes narrow at the white-haired man. His only concern is – “Who the hell topped?”

Tsuna shrieks in embarrassment and stifles his screams with sheets. Clearly, Xanxus needs a reassessment of his priorities.

“What?” The other pair of red eyes widen, alarmed. “What the fuck are you talking about? No fucking took place here last night.”

“Really.” The question is echoed by both Tsuna and Xanxus.

Because it’s just really hard to believe they didn’t do it on their wedding night. (As a matter of fact, it’s so shocking, Tsuna feels the desire to remediate that.)

“Really.” Samatoki narrows his eyes. A small bit of colour enters his face, something which Tsuna finds oddly endearing. “Look. It’s just sort of a thing, alright?” He scratches his neck. Nervous Sign Number One. The Sky in Tsuna feels tempted to pull him in to comfort. “I grew up surrounded by tonnes of shit, as you bastards already know. At some point, I just grew to become incapable of sleeping without something.” He waves his hand for emphasis. “ _Someone._ And last night, you fucked up bastards volunteered.”

…It must be a sort of self-defence mechanism, Tsuna registers absently. Because Samatoki has lost too much, forced to become a big brother too fast, he feels the urge to cling to the ones he loves to feel safe at heart. Tsuna vaguely remembers that drunken conversation taking place after they sneaked out of the party (after rescuing Samatoki from his 100-to-1 rap battle of course). That falling out with that gang of precious (however much Samatoki would argue) friends of his must have only ruined him further.

“Maybe you guys were too intoxicated at that time to remember, in which case it doesn’t matter,” Samatoki has a deep-seated scowl on his face. “But if you regret it, then just tell me. You really don’t wanna force yourself to be around someone as fucked up as me.”

The self-depreciating words fall from his lips so fast, Tsuna can hardly believe it.

“Why not?” The words are blurted out, courtesy of his lack of censor in the early morn. Tsuna leans against Xanxus. “If it’s just cuddling.”

Samatoki is reasonably shocked. Tsuna can’t believe he’s paving the way for what Byakuran envisioned either.

“Scum’s got a point.” Xanxus shrugs off Tsuna’s pout at the term. Rough hands dig into his scalp and lightly pull off his towel to dry off the locks. “You’re hardly the most fucked up I’ve seen. I can deal with this much.” He scoffs.

“Well, if you’ve dealt with the wire-and-knife brat, a fucking monotone mist toad, a shark-shaped loudspeaker and pervert octopi, obviously you can deal with me.” Samatoki doesn’t look like he believes much in his own words either, his eyes still wide with disbelief.

Tsuna finds himself smiling encouragingly as he reaches out and tugs at the other’s arm, pulling him alongside Xanxus back to bed.

“Come on. We’ve still got a bit of time, so we might as well test this new arrangement out.” Tsuna yawns.

“You’re not the worst cuddler I’ve came across.” Xanxus plants his chin on Tsuna’s shoulder. Which is to say that Samatoki’s the best either of them has ever encountered.

Samatoki narrows his eyes suspiciously at them and grumbles as he leans in.

“If I wake up to something jutting out in my thigh… I’m going to scream.” He hisses.

“It’d be nice to have someone else take that role for once.” Tsuna sighs into his chest.

“Don’t tempt us, Scum. We’ve got a night’s worth of tension pent up.” Xanxus threatens.

“Seriously? You guys fuck every night?”

(Ah. Tsuna can see how this becomes a routine.)

(On a side note, Tsuna may or may not have mourned the depreciation of his values when he wakes up that afternoon.)

 

* * *

 

In a way, you can say they’re as naked as they could ever be when they stand before each other at Samatoki’s flight back to Japan.

“Message us.” Tsuna smiles, pulling Samatoki into a hug. Samatoki doesn’t resist like he thought he would. “Promise you’ll call if you need us.” He hooks his pinky with the other.

“As if.” Samatoki pulls his hand away. He narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t think I’ve softened the slightest just because of what you’ve done for me, Brat. The only reason why I’m continuing with this farce is because I want my sushi, goddamn it.”

“I’ll buy you all the sushi you ever want for this.” Tsuna laughs as he pulls his arms back.

They stand in silence, feeling far too raw to be who they were before this meeting. (To return to just group chats and messages. Oh, just the thought of it pains him.)

“Oi.” Samatoki finally breaks the silence, red eyes fixated on him. He’s still every bit as regal as the first time Tsuna sees him. And it’s only just two days ago, but it feels like an eternity since. “Promise you’ll come to Japan, Brat.” Red eyes shift from him to Xanxus. “Both of you two, alright? And don’t drop me off your radar just because it’s gonna put me in danger or any of that shit. Fucking Xanxus’s not the only one who doesn’t want to be left behind.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck in that rugged-sheepish way of his again. It’s an attempt to retain whatever yakuza he has.

The smile that graces Tsuna’s lips cannot be fonder.

“Promise you won’t drop us too, and we’ll do the same.”

“Speak for yourself, Scum.” Xanxus snorts, whacking him over the head. Tsuna yelps. What a violent husband…! The Varia Boss tosses a searing look at Samatoki. “We won’t be letting you go no matter how much you fucking thrash in our arms.”

“Xanxus…!” Tsuna frowns.

“Alright.” Samatoki smirks. “I promise. Then,” He turns. “Until next time.”

“Right.” Tsuna interlaces hands with Xanxus. “We’ll see you around then, Samatoki-san!”

 

* * *

 

[ _It’s SAMA to you, kid._ ]

[Next time sure is close by, isn’t it?]

[Scums and their useless dramatics.]

[( ￣＾￣)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Yokohama Division and Hypmic Division Members meet Sawada Tsunayoshi and Xanxus.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 
>     The Mafiaso visits the Yakuza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the last chapter is a love letter to KHR, this one is to Hypmic.
> 
> Honestly, I could just stop this fic at C4, but this one contains the scene I wanted to write most. This is a self-indulgent chapter, so just be warned.
> 
> There are lots of Hypmic content here, so I'd highly recommend you guys to read this Hypmic Note (or not read this chapter at all, though I'm growing mushrooms in my corner of woe already at the thought of that. I'll live though).
>
>> In the world of hypnosis mic, territories of men are determined through rap, whilst the women, who act as administrators / voters, are given special treatment. What you'll see in here is the division representatives marching their way into the battle arena -- Chuuouku, a woman-only town, where men are discriminated - to battle against each other. Buster Bros are set to go against Mad Trigger Crew.
>> 
>> For this chapter, I'll just put pics of the Hypmic characters here and introduce them really,  _really_ briefly. Just duplicate this tab to come back to it if you can't follow as you're reading.
>> 
>> Buster Bros:
>> 
>> Yamada Ichiro, 19, (MC Big Brother), taken in by Samatoki when young and split from him for unknown reasons. For more, look at C4 Hypmic Notes.
>> 
>> Yamada Saburo, 14, (MC Little Brother).
>> 
>> Yamada Jiro, 17, (MC Middle Brother). They admire their brother lots and often fight each other for Ichiro's affection.
>> 
>> Fling Posse:
>> 
>> Amemura Ramuda, 24, previous member of The Dirty Dawg. Is as mysterious as he is sweet. (MC Easy R.)
>> 
>> Arisugawa Dice, 20, a homeless gambling addict. Known for accepting any bet, no matter what the cost. (MC Dead or Alive)
>> 
>> Yumeno Gentaro, 24, a writer with the uncanny habit of telling meaningless lies. Calls himself 'Shousei' or 'This humble one' in English. Often has Dice dancing in the palm of his hand. (MC Phantom)
>> 
>> PS. 'Gentaro♡♡ Sorry! Can you lend me  _this_?' [Flashes money sign] 'Fufu... Sure. This humble one is just in need of borrowing something too... You, that is♡' [Stabs finger through hole in dirty motion] 'Awawawawawa!' [Disclaimer: I have not studied kanji yet.]
>> 
>>  ie. The 8 Facets of Matenrou
>> 
>> Matenrou:
>> 
>> Izanami Hifumi (kanji is written as one-two-three for his name), 29, Shinjuku's No.1 host when he puts on his suit. A sassy dork when he takes of his suit. A wimp utterly incapable of speaking to women when he's off his suit + facing ladies. (MC Gigolo - yes. That's a joke from previous chapters.)
>> 
>> Jinguji Jakurai, 35, previous member of the Dirty Dawg, a doctor with soothing voice and a reputation in the medical world. Is *** when he's drunk. (MC ill Doc)
>> 
>> Kannonzaka Doppo, 29, Hifumi's childhood friend who's always regretting his life. A depressed salaryman being worked overtime in his normal state. A depressed salaryman who contemplates suicide when he's at the point of snapping. A cursing salaryman with all his repressed stress coming forth when he's forced to rap. (MC Doppo)
>> 
>> And finally... You have these guys:
>> 
>> Rio: 'You're just in time. Jyuto, between rat and frog, which do you prefer?'  
>  Samatoki: 'Hurry up and let me kill Buster Bros already!'  
>  Jyuto: 'Hai, Stop, stop, STOP!'
>> 
>> Additional things you need to know besides C3 Notes: Rio is well acquainted with Dice, having picked him up on the street when he's dying of hunger. 
>> 
>> *Disclaimer: I don't own any of these images. Image credits are at the end notes.*
> 
> Alright. With that, let's start the show!

* * *

XXI. Honeymoon

* * *

 

Honeymoon is no less of a pain in the ass than one would expect.

A week’s long trip to Mafia land where the arcobaleno _coincidentally_ gathers at the back and put Xanxus through gruelling tests (And here he thought it was all over!); a boat trip to somewhere supposedly innocent in Finland – till they find out it’s a Vongola-run facility manned by Verde; hell, even their impromptu escape to the north pole had found Iemitsu directing penguin traffics (and unceremoniously knocked into sub-zero waters), Ryohei training his ass out at the peak of the mountain, and Hayato’s screams echoing through the tall icicles, prompting the plummeting of the many dangers of nature. (Takeshi’s laughter in the distance may or may not have exacerbated it.)

Tsuna feels he’s finally accommodating to the level of strange his family will forever be. These days, (after much intense exposure therapy to these weirdos,) he just finds it hard to not expect Reborn in star-mangled pyjamas appearing out of the corner of his hotel, or Mukuro fighting Kyoya and destroying whatever scenery they wanted to enjoy, or Lambo causing explosions in one way or another.

Hell. Even now, as he lays sated on his husband’s bare chest, he hears Giavanni’s screams in the distance as he tries to escape the punishments Reborn mats out for one or two gun modifications gone wrong. Tsuna just snuggles into the crook of Xanxus’ neck. The fingers smoothing down fluffy locks are indulgently comforting.

“Where do you want to go next?” Xanxus’ chest rumbles pleasantly under his ear.

“What about the plan?” Tsuna props his head up to peer into red eyes.

“You never intended to follow their arrangements in the first place, do you.” It’s not a question, not with the way Xanxus’ smothering eyes glint with understanding. The wandering hand traces upwards to curl snugly against Tsuna’s face. He nudges into the fingers, a tiny soft smile curving his lips.

“You know me best.” He sighs.

“Correction, I know Vongola Decimo best.” Xanxus pulls him in for a chaste kiss. “You’ve never been one to roll over just because your foes told you to. I know that well.” Tsuna settles back on him, kissing his sternum. “So. What’s we are we off to now? It'd better be somewhere these scums wouldn't follow us to, or we're never seeing the end of this." Another shrill shout resounds outside.

“Hm.” Tsuna’s eyes wander to their phones by the nightstand. He smiles. “How do you feel about a trip to Japan?”

 

* * *

XXII. One

* * *

 

It begins with one. A fucked up one that appears at his usual restaurant. 

“Thanks for your patronage, Samatoki!”

The address of his first name is one that the usual chef doesn’t have the nerves to do. None of his boys would fucking dare do such a thing either; They’ve got respect punched into them if nothing else. Samatoki’s startled and readying for his usual quip to the Brat when he looks up, sees the guy who’s standing at the door of the sushi shop, and has a whipsplash thinking he’s back in Italy for a second.

“…What the hell are you doing here.” Samatoki chokes out, his life flashing before his eyes.

It’s been a good one month since he got kidnapped, tossed onto a battlefield (yes, it’s a fucking battlefield), had his life threatened by bombs, boulders, tonfas, illusions, lightning, skirts, and a more fucked up version of Rio’s _exotic cooking_ , and he still hasn’t gotten over his trauma. What saved him from the last one, albeit, is the food made by this Sushi Brat – who also put an end to the nickname he once bestowed upon the original Sushi Brat.

Laughing light-heartedly, Sushi Brat the Second Coming throws his head back and answers, tightening the apron to his waist.

“I just got a bit reminiscent, that’s all!” He smiles like Ramuda, a tint of secrecy to his words. “Come back again soon, Samatoki!”

“It’s Samatoki- _sama_ to you.” And he walks away, disgruntled.

(Somewhere, somehow, deep within, he already knew at that time this is definitely _not_ normal.)

 

* * *

 

Tsuna got betrayed by his husband.

He got betrayed by his husband, which is bad enough.

Why did Xanxus have to throw himself in jail alongside him…?

“You should have left your guns in your box weapon.” Tsuna bemoans to the man in same cell as his. Crossing the custom check had _not_ been a pleasant trip. To sum it up, it had ended with thirty-eight men leaping onto Xanxus to pin him down; some broken bones; and the rekindling of Tsuna’s sanity which has long been thought to be lost. Tsuna weeps bloody tears of regret. “What are we going to do now without Vongola knowing we’re here?”

“Break ourselves out.” Xanxus scoffs, hands lighting up with the flames of wrath.

“Please don’t get me blacklisted from my own home country!” Tsuna yelps, grabbing his hands.

Oh god. Why is this always his life?

 

* * *

 

The second is a man that zooms pass him at the speed of light.

“EXTREME TRAINING!!!”

The familiar yell from a tormentor who tossed boulders off a freaking _mountain_ at them has Samatoki stopping in his tracks. All his internal alarms are pointing towards the presence of that fucked up clam famiglia and that possibly fucked (in another way) Boss being around here. Samatoki turns his head blankly – the life of a yakuza is never boring – and he sees the stupid idiot running headfirst into a bungee rope, gets bounced off, and successfully caught between the ridiculous cops who are the first competent ones around here.

“This is Alpha 1, I repeat, this is Alpha 1. We have successfully apprehended Wall-Breaker.” Announces one cop into his walkie-talkie.

‘Wall-Breaker’…

Samatoki turns and eyes the line of Sasagawa-shaped holes originating from the direction he came from. The fucked up man’s still roaring and talking about “EXTREME TRAINING! I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT STOP HERE NOW!” when the police thankfully knock him out. It’s more like a work of yakuza than anything the way they bundle him up and throw him into their vehicle. His eye’s twitching uncontrollably when he drags a palm down his face and turns away.

He didn’t see this.

 

* * *

 

“We need someone to bail us out.” Tsuna wrings his hands. “Or better yet – someone who’s not Vongola.”

He hadn’t even finished his line when he hears the distant screeches of Ryohei, screaming about training and extreme and more extreme. Tsuna doesn’t want to turn around when he hears the prison cell opening and closing to one new occupant. He does so anyway.

“Oh, Tsuna! What an extreme coincidence!” Ryohei laughs, bloody with bits of wall still on his head. “Are you enjoying your honeymoon?!”

Tsuna sobs piteously into Xanuxs’ shoulder.

 

* * *

 

The third’s the kids.

Fucked up kids, Samatoki thinks. Because for some reason, they had managed to drag that freaking hermit Rio out of his state of zen in that fucking forest and into their bunch of shit.

“Gyahaha! _Broom, broom_! Faster!” Screeches the cow-print brat, punching his hands on Rio’s shoulders. “I’m definitely winning this game of tag!”

Rio, that fucktard too. He’s still in his freaking military uniform, still having that disagreeable stoic look on his face that never fails to pick a fight. Still out hunting dangerous animals – which in this case is the young China brat who’s doing her best to escape the motorcycle he and the cow brat are both on. (He’s not eating her.) Samatoki feels the breeze as the fucked up bunch of bastards pass him. It feels like the last shreds of his sanity bidding him farewell. Then no sooner had that happened, he hears the sirens in the distance.

“Stop right here! This is the police! You are under arrest for the illegal thievery of a vehicle and for breaking multiple driving rules!” Blasts the airhorn from the car.

Samatoki watches blankly as the bunch drive past him. He thinks he sees that fucking rabbit’s signature red gloves in there. This is so fucking messed up.

_Bzzt!_

His phone vibrates at that time.

[We need you to bail us out, Samatoki-sama! （πーπ） I’ll do anything you say!]

Bail them out? Why should he do that when Vongola’s so clearly here to break in?

Pocketing his phone, Samatoki decides to let the Brat suffer a bit more before ringing up Jyuto. It’s not like those bunch wouldn’t finish gathering at their boss’ place (aka. The Slammer) by the end of the hour. Jyuto needs some exercise too. In the meantime, he supposes he’ll go for a bowl of ramen or two.

 

* * *

 

There’s the sound of Lambo’s wailing, growing closer and closer from the distance.

It’s not the first time Lambo’s been tossed in the slammer, so Tsuna’s fully anticipating a crying child slamming into him when he turns around. He just – well, wasn’t really anticipating the bulky man who follows Lambo into the cell.

“Tsuna-Nii!!!” Wails the Bovino into his lap. Tsuna pats him absently on the head, jaw still hanging as he takes in the gigantic military man looming over them. …Why is he being tied up? “Those meanies took away Rio and my toy and said they’re going to roast Rio for doing something wrong! WHY?! Even though we were just playing chase with 1-Pin!” Lambo cries louder. “And they took away 1-Pin too!”

Now then. _That_ is not something Tsuna can tolerate.

“Listen up, Rio. You are a man of twenty-eight years at the end of this year. You come from _America._ ” The red gloved police’s tapping on his elbow with a frown on his face when Tsuna stalks up to him. “Surely, you must not need to be given that 'responsibility comes with strength' talk—”

“Excuse me.” Tsuna interrupts. The policeman does not look pleased when he turns to him. “I heard that you’ve taken my younger sister into custody. May I ask what she did to warrant that?” Cause Tsuna swears, if the reason that comes out of this cop’s mouth is not something bad...

“Your younger sister.” The cop adjusts his spectacles dubiously. His boots click as he turns to face Tsuna full on. He appraises Tsuna. “Even though she is of another country?”

“I already told you broccoli-monster is playing with me!” Tsuna claps a hand over Lambo’s mouth. The child shrinks back under Tsuna’s reproaching gaze.

“She’s my adopted sister.” Tsuna explains wryly.

“Adopted.” The cop parrots. Well, it’s fair, given Japan’s current gender inequality. “…Very well, I won’t ask any questions. But if you must know, should what you’ve just revealed be the truth, then it highly puts the parenting capabilities of your guardians under question.”

The cop taps his chin, eyes judgemental.

“You see, the girl was being chased by these two on a stolen, speeding motorcycle when we apprehended them. While she insisted it is for her own good – in the name of ‘training’, our department is currently classifying it as a case of abuse. It’s a miracle how she survived till now, given her accounts of how this is supposedly…‘ _normal_ ’.”

There is a pause. The police lowers his lifted chin pointedly.

“Pray tell, how _have_ she been raised till now?” Green eyes glint dangerously.

“…”

Suddenly, Tsuna just wants to die a bit more, being looked at by clearly judgemental eyes that are deeming him ‘filth’. Forget protesting his innocence. He wants to apologize to 1-Pin for ever letting her stay in the same house as him (and Bianchi. And Reborn. And Lambo. And anyone Vongola, in general).

“…Well,” The cop sighs. “It’s not like I can’t attest to owing half the responsibility.” He turns to eye the soldier, who he seems to know. Looking disconcerted (some twisted part of Tsuna's mind compares it to his Mom and himself), he begins. “It’s unlike you to do something like this to begin with, Rio. May I ask for a logical reason before I release you—”

“Jyuto-san! It’s code red! There’s been another incident!” Sirens blast as another police officer pokes his head into the room, looking harried.

The red-gloved officer, Jyuto, sighs.

“…We’ll leave this for when I return.”

“Ah, wait-!”

The tap, tap, tapping of his boots are already drifting out of the room before Tsuna could even warn him about the incoming Vongola. He slumps, wanting to sob his poor little heart out. (And here he thought it was all over when his marriage ended. And here he thought he finally escaped Vongola… Why did he ever choose to come to Yokohama again?) Tiny hands grab onto his, fingers holding onto his larger ones with a smile. Lambo still has tear tracks on his face, but he looks significantly peppier after his crying fit.

“I found my Tsuna-Nii!” He declares proudly. …To the soldier?

“Yeah.” The solider answers in reply, quiet and sturdy, but a hint of fondness in electric blue eyes.

“You’re now officially my Minion Number Two!” Lambo laughs.

Tsuna has flashbacks of that time with Shimon Famiglia. (Oh no.)

“Yeah.” Repeats the soldier, indulgence painting his face.

Tsuna drops his face into his palms (conveniently missing the tongue stuck out by Lambo at Xanxus. Conveniently missing the glare his husband shoots his younger brother, which prompts Lambo to quieten and withdraw his tongue with a tell-tale shiver) and wonders if there’s any possible way this can get worse.

“Hey! You’ve got a pretty built body there! Would you like an extreme match or two with me?!” Ryohei’s eyes burn with the flames of sun.

“TSUNA-NII! I NEED TO PEE!” Lambo wails, knees turning inwards.

(Things just got worst.)

 

* * *

 

There’s the poison cooking bitch at the ramen store, adding snakes to her ramen when Samatoki gets there.

He turns tail and heads for the family restaurant.

 

* * *

 

There’s the little blond bitch there, sharing a parfait with the redhead when Samatoki gets there.

He turns tail and heads for the okonomiyaki house.

 

* * *

 

There’s an explosion around the corner when Samatoki’s on his way there.

He turns tail and heads for the oden stall.

 

* * *

 

There’re the fucking girls who put him and that bastard in dresses when he gets there.

Samatoki gives up and heads back to the sushi restaurant.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome back! You sure come back quickly enough!”

“Shishishi~ I see you’ve got passable tastes.” Prince the Ripper sniggers.

“I don’t really see how this is a date though, Semp—mffph.” The monotone brat has sushi smacked onto his face. Literally.

“Just be quiet and focus on eating.” The Bloody Prince sneers.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I can’t really eat with my eyes, Sempai. Ah, is this wasabi on it? How kind of you. You’ve just made me fall into more love-love with you—”

“Do me a favour and stop saying disgusting things.” The Prince tosses more knifes.

“Oh?” Takeshi looks back. He laughs at the empty entrance. “Looks like he simply forgot something! I wonder what that is?”

 

* * *

 

Samatoki’s not even strutted five metres away from Takesushi before he’s running.

The hell was that?! The fuck was that?! Why is every single inch of his town being covered by these Vongola bastards?! Why have they chosen to return to this town at this particular moment when they could be back in Namimori?! Fuck. There’s only one shitty reason Samatoki can think of right off his head.

The phone’s ringing for the first time. Samatoki dodges another explosion and the timely screech of “ _TENTH! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN TAKEN TO?!”_ by Puppy Number II and the _“VOOOOOOOOOIIII!!!!”_ that’s coming from Puppy Number I, who apparently has partnered up with his arch rival to declare war against the permanent thing that’s those bastards’ marriage.

The phone is picked up with a click.

“Fuck you, Brat. Fuck you and your goddamn family to hell and back. Why of all freaking places did you choose Yokohama as your fucking honeymoon place?!” Samatoki hisses into the phone.

There’s a pause.

 _“…Samatoki?”_ Accompanied by the one clicking of glasses that just belongs to that goddamn motherfucking Rabbit.

Samatoki freezes for a moment.

“…Oi. Why the hell are you holding onto this phone, rabbit?” So shocked is he, he doesn’t even muster his usual scowl in his words.

 _“The prisoner had requested to contact his family to bail him out. I am currently holding onto his phone owing to the… questionable tendencies of those within the cell._ ”

“Are you talking about the shitty brat and his husband? Or the boxer? Or the fucked up cow brat and his China friend?” There’s too many. Samatoki swipes a hand across his face.

 _“None of them. Though I would ask how you’d know.”_ Jyuto’s voice is clipped.

Which begs one question: Who the fuck’s currently in the cell besides those Samatoki’s already seen?

 

* * *

 

“Hold it in, Lambo. Please, just hold it in.” Tsuna begs.

“Very well.” The soldier drops on all fours and pistons his arm on the ground. “This sergeant does not mind if it’s just an arm-wrestling with you.”

Tsuna thank god this one does not have such a destructive tendency.

“EXTREME! I extremely agree with this form of challenge!” Ryohei’s quick to drop to the ground as well.

“Wait, Onii-san-!” Doesn’t he know a simple flip from him can toss anyone to the ground?! And Lambo’s wriggling in his grip, choking on tears as he clings on tightly to his crotch area. “Hold it in, Lambo! I’ll call for help this instant! SOMEBODY! IS ANYONE THERE?! PLEASE! MY YOUNGER BROTHER NEEDS TO GO! CAN YOU JUST DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!?”

Emptiness replies. Tsuna internally sobs. It’s as hollow as his heart is right now.

“I…I-I can’t… already…” Lambo chokes on a whimper, looking the most pained Tsuna has ever seen him.

“One, two!” The two muscular men maintain their balance.

“AAAAAH! Please don’t stay _there_!” Tsuna screeches, because the two idiots are right within aiming range for Lambo.

“You’re so pathetic, Dame-Tsuna. Already 21 and married but still utterly incapable of controlling your famiglia.” Sighs a voice that’s too familiar and frankly, _saintly_ to Tsuna at this moment of time.

He looks up, searching for the owner of that one voice. His hyper intuition tells him he’s right in front of him.

“Reborn! Reborn, release us this instant!” He orders, orange bleeding into brown. Lambo already can’t handle it.

“It can’t be helped, Tsuna.” Sighs that achingly familiar voice. (Tsuna can’t believe he’s calling for _his_ help at this moment of time either. Why?! Why, even though they’ve come all the way to Japan to escape him?!) In front of them, a shred of black peels off from the walls to reveal bright yellow. Tsuna feels his jaw drop when Reborn finally reveal where he is. Long legs propping him up against the wall, back resting against the wall, eyes shadowed by fedora and undeniably – _undeniably-!_

Locked behind bars.

“Just let it out, cow-brat. There’s not a thing I can do to help you.” Reborn says as smartly as he always does.

Lambo whimpers and Tsuna picks him up to direct him in another direction before the two muscular men got their share of waterworks.

“Why are _you_ behind bars too?!” Tsuna sobs to the cell opposite them, cursing the world.

“I got caught at the custom check point.” Reborn smirks, shrugging as if it just can’t be helped.

Tsuna hears the huff his husband makes as Xanxus smirks.

“Not you too!” Tsuna bemoans.

 

* * *

 

“Jyuto, I’m going to need you to do me one huge ass favour.” Samatoki scowls into the phone.

 _“I’m a little busy here, if you’ve yet to notice.”_ Says the dirty cop dryly. Samatoki hears the sound of a gunshot and metal and “Kufufu’s”. …He will not say a thing about that.

“Head back to your HQ. Tell them to release whoever’s in that cell this moment, because the only one who’s capable of stopping the destruction of Yokohama is currently in that cell.” Samatoki hears another explosion coming from somewhere close by. He sees the blonde and redhead getting dragged up by their collars by The Puppies and interrogated with a slew of fucked up threats. Samatoki squats back down behind the bushes. (Heh. Mr Hardcore aka Yokohama’s Mad Dog has been reduced to this state. As expected, it’s only the Brat who’s capable of this.)

There’s a moment of silence on the other end.

 _“…Are things really that serious?”_ Jyuto questions, not dubiously. Yokohama’s his town for a reason.

“Yeah.” Samatoki closes his eyes. Argh. He really needs a smoke. “Better get your ass moving before you find it donned in skirts and frilly shit. Or have a dynamite or sword stuffed up in there, because that’s what’s going to happen to you if I die.”

He sees The Puppies storming up to him.

_“What—”_

Samatoki hangs up. He pulls out his box weapon, a sneer on his lips as he summons his storm cheetah.

“Hey, stupid puppies! I know where the fuck your bosses are!” Their lips part and their screeches are covered up by another explosion somewhere else in the city. (He’d bet two hundred thousand that it’s the illusionist.) Their Boss Radar’s strong enough anyways to pick up on Samatoki’s yell. “Come get me if you can!”

He clambers onto his cheetah and gets the fuck out of there.

Now then. Let’s see if they get to him before the Brat gets to them.

 

* * *

 

“You are…” Jyuto cocks his head, a glimmer of recognition finally entering his eyes as he places where he’d seen that face before. It’s Vongola Decimo of the Vongola Famiglia who’s standing there before him – not unlike nearly half a decade back, when his corrupt ties offered up the face of a fourteen-year-old as the next in line for the Italian Underground Throne.

“…Hello…?” The brunette blinks tentatively at him, a wry smile coming to his lips.

He’s kneeling down, a hand on the shoulder of the psychopathic boy from before, trying to comfort him from what’s a very – _very,_ Jyuto eyes the pool sipping out of the cell and the wet stain on the brat’s pants – obvious accident.

“You’re a bit late.” The brunette comments, looking as hopeless as Jyuto himself felt after the tenth time of having his officers knocked into a building by a trident slash tonfa. Do mind the difference in the scale of their respective catastrophes.

“I reckon I do have a valid reason.” Jyuto adjusts his glasses, unlocking the doors. “I don’t know who you are,” A complete lie. “But seeing as if Samatoki has his faith in you, please stop this wreckage that’s going through our division as soon as you can.” He doesn’t mind cooperating so long as he still _has_ a town to play in at the end of this.

Rio lifts his head marginally from where he’s patting the cow boy on the back.

“Samatoki does?” That’s as much of shock as he’s ever going to receive from Rio.

“Indeed.” Jyuto gestures towards the brunette. “He mentioned that the only one who could stop those unruly people rampaging through our town is this gentleman here.”

“Samatoki-san-?!” The brunette chokes on his own spit.

…Rather ungraceful for a leader, isn’t he?

“Ah, I see… You guys must be Samatoki-san’s division, aren’t you? That explains things.” The brunette smiles, and then Jyuto finds himself revising his opinion again. Charisma is an awfully dangerous thing to have, each and every one of them. (That mad dog included. Now, if only he could tame him just a little more and have him stop throwing himself into these cells…) “Thank you for always taking care of him! And sorry for the trouble! Now, let’s go, guys!”

There’s a click from the cell opposite this one.

The dubious character of before smirks as he unlocks the cell for the nth time with a paperclip. Jyuto drags a hand down his face. He’ll assume this guy is with them, for sanity’s sake.

Throwing the phone at the brunette, Jyuto watches them leave, the brunette shouting an accusing “You could have done something all along!” at the suspicious character. The fedora man merely smirks as he leaves.

“Honestly…” Jyuto sighs when they’re gone. He eyes Rio. “Between a homeless gambler and a mafia boss… You two sure know how to make the best of acquaintances.” He can already imagine the damage costs at the end of this. He’s definitely hinting at the mayor to bill it to Vongola.

“That is,” Rio’s shoulder pops as he turns it. “Samatoki’s texting buddy, right?”

“I’d think so, considering their crazy mannerisms.” Jyuto lights up a cigar and blows. A smirk comes to his lips. “Kidnapping Samatoki as a _greeting_ , of all things.” Oh, that’s no good. He almost choked on the smoke in his laughter.

“We should invite them over for a meal as thanks for having taken care of Samatoki.”

This time, Jyuto really chokes.

He taps Rio gently on the shoulder twice.

“…Just the thought is enough, Rio.”

He doesn’t want to die.

“I insist.”

Looks like he’s dying anyways.

 

* * *

XXIII.I. Third wheel

* * *

 

“How the fuck did this happen.” Samatoki’s cooking breakfast for three.

The whole town’s still scrambling to pick itself up after the catastrophe yesterday. The police had found themselves thoroughly reorganized by ‘mysterious orders’ from people who are decidedly _not_ the government. Suited men with tattoos covered up had marched in and taken over the construction without a hitch and magically, half the town’s alright now. Fucking Vongola has also been rounded up and sent packing home by the world’s strongest (doesn’t seem like it’d be the brat. He hears it’s the brat, but he knows the brat’s not capable of that kind of anger. Right? _Right?_ ), and somehow. _Somehow_ , Samatoki’s cooking breakfast for three.

“Why am I the third wheel in my own fucking home.” Samatoki croaks around a cigar, having woken up to yet another morning in bed with these two fuckers.

It’s still significantly better than waking up to nothing though, so he sits down the freaking omurice for those fucktards and makes his way to his room.

There’s a sound from his room.

Samatoki hesitates.

He swears. If those guys are doing what he’s doing on his bed, he’s so going to throw them out of his house—

The Brat moans where he’s pinned down by the Scum.

Oh, they’re just kissing.

“Stop eating each other’s faces out already and get out to the dining room.” Samatoki throws the nearest pillow at them. The Trash-bastard dares growl at him. Well, he can growl all he fucking wants. Samatoki flips the finger at him. “Or do you not want your fucking breakfast, dipshit?”

And that somehow gets them out of the bed.

(Samatoki wonders when the fuck he becomes something like a nanny to these two.

Well, it’s their honeymoon. Might as well save them the bullcrap for a while till they recover from their form of Vongola insanity. Then, he’s throwing them right back in for what they did to his division.)

 

* * *

XXIII.II. Yokohama

* * *

 

“This is a beautiful town.”

Tsuna’s sitting on his window ledge, smiling as he keeps his eyes closed and listens to the sound of the crashing waves. (Samatoki swears, sometimes it’s just so tempting to push him right off the ledge so all the insanity in his life can go _poof_. But he knows he won’t anyways.) The brunette opens his eyes to smile at Samatoki with his eyes too.

“I can understand why you’re trying to protect it.”

Samatoki scowls. He knew there was a reason why the Brat chose to visit at this time.

“You knew.” He accuses.

The Trash probably knows too, though Tsuna has pushed him to go buy ingredients for dinner. Samatoki’s fine so long as he doesn’t bring back a fucking tarantula or rat.

“I knew.” Tsuna confirms.

It’s all so troublesome. Fucking Ill Sainto del Cielo and Vongola Decimo and whatnot. None of that matters to him.

“Idiot.” Samatoki rolls his eyes, making brown ones blink in surprise. “I’m not so much of a saint like you, to want to save each and everything. It’s just this fucking piece of property that’s mine. And my boys, who’re _mine_. And this place, which is _mine_. I protect the things that’re mine, because I don’t want any bastards to get their hands all over my things. That’s why I’m participating in this division battle. The other things could go to hell for all I care."

(There might have been a time, long ago, when Samatoki would have participated for the sake of crushing _those guys_. But that’s no longer the case. Not when there’re now places like _Takesushi_ and that fucking forest that matter. Not when there are people who helped him see beyond the length of his aching ego. Fuck. He’s really softened up, hadn’t he? And the fault of that beyond to no other than—)

Red eyes glimmer at Sawada Tsunayoshi. The brunette had laughed, muffling the soft snicker in a hand.

“But that’s basically everything here, isn’t it?!” Tsuna laughs.

“That’s right. Yokohama’s _mine_.” Samatoki states, a grin playing on his lips. “You’re the same, aren’t you? With that fucked up Vongola of yours?”

“Heheh.” The brat beams. He skips away from the balcony and nudges Samatoki playfully. “So, are we friends now? Or what do you yakuza call it – _Kyodai_?”

Samatoki swats him away.

“We’re texting buddies.” He states, and that’s the best he’ll give him.

“Even though I know how many freckles are on your body?” The fucking Brat _pouts_.

Samatoki pops a vein.

“WHEN THE HELL DID YOU COUNT THEM, HUH?!”

The Brat laughs as he dances out of the way.

(Even if he loses Yokohama, it seems like there’ll still be one thing precious that’ll thankfully be out of Yamada Ichiro’s hands.)

(He’ll never say how fucking grateful he is for that.)

 

* * *

XXIV. Battle

* * *

 

“Yamada fucking Ichiro.”

The boy stiffens. His brothers, too. Samatoki honestly can’t give a damn about them anymore.

“…Samatoki.” Ichiro stays his ground, shoulders tensing all too obviously.

Samatoki eyes him, mismatched eyes and all, each and every single thing unchanged as if nothing’s ever changed from back then – from back in those days where _Ichiro was scowling, Ramuda was laughing, and Sensei was sighing at their usual antics._ Samatoki feels the weight of those days. It’s almost as fucking heavy as Ramuda, that fake-brat. As a matter of fact—

“Stop dangling off me! I’ll smash you to pieces!” He hisses at the goddamn annoyance.

“C’mon! It’s been so long~ It’s fine, right♡?” The little mist continues clinging onto his back.

“The hell it is!” Samatoki reaches around. Tries to pry those sticky – hell, they’re probably sugar coated and _fuck_ if Samatoki’s gonna spend another day washing his clothes because of this bastard – hands off his shoulders. Instead, pinkie there simply removes his hands and puts them elsewhere. Here and there. All over. It’s fucking annoying, how overly familiar he’s still acting. Even though they all know they’re already fragmented beyond fixing.

“Oi.” Samatoki grabs him by the head, shoves him away before Sensei even got the chance to grab the fucking kid by the arm and pull him away. Lecture him to act like the adult he is.

Ramuda seems shocked, even slightly affronted for once.

“Just cut it out already.” Samatoki doesn’t know what he’s thinking under that front of his. Hell. Nobody knows what mists think, but— “We’re already over, aren’t we?”

The world is fucked up if he’s the one who’s got to remind them of the story thus far, of the agreement every one of them had.

Amemura Ramuda stands as still as the silence for a fraction of a moment.

Samatoki would be lying if he says he doesn’t wish it’s attachment he sees slipping into his eyes. Their eyes. Everyone’s eyes, of those from _those days_.

“Bleh!” The shrimp’s huge ass clothes go flopping as he moves away. “You’ve become no fun, Samatoki!” He pouts. (Is he hurt? Samatoki doesn’t really give a fuck, but if he’s hurt, then maybe—) A teasing snide smile slides onto his lips. Ramuda taps lightly on his own sternum. “Is it because you’ve gotten a woman? Samatoki has a hickey☆!”

“Wha-!” Samatoki sputters, hand flying to his own neck. Those bastards! They didn’t-!

“You’ve really gotten one!” Ramuda throws his head back, laughing rambunctiously.

“This humble one should be the last to point out, but Ramuda was lying.” Smiles the author – what’s his name again, Yumeno or some shit? The guy known for his lies – eyeing Ramuda out of the corner of his eyes when he’s tugged away by Sensei in their usual bickerfest.

Samatoki feels like killing the little shrimp. (It’s his fault he’s embarrassed.) Hell, he feels like that’s a sin deserving of being thrown into motherfucking Vongola to get rid of the Shrimp’s craziness.

He has his thoughts cut off by the fucking Rabbit shifting his glasses before he could fantasize about Ramuda being with that fucked up Varia. (On a second thought, that’s probably not a good idea now.)

“…Oh? Is that the nature of your relationship with them now.”

Samatoki feels a brow twitch.

“For one who’s sleeping in those shitty governors’ bed, you’re pretty quick to judge, huh, Government Rabbit.” He growls.

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who’s dicking around with the rulers of the underworld.” Jyuto snaps back, ever quick to take offense to that nickname.

“Haaaah?! What did you say?!” He’s not dicking around with them! H-H-He— _fuck._ What do you even call a relationship like theirs?

“The same goes for you! Do you want to be tossed in the slammer?!”

“What’re you doing, Rio-san?” It’s then that the third member of Shibuya – Dice, or Trump, or whatever casino game or object he was named after – said loud enough for them to hear. Rio’s scouring the ground. “Did you lose something?”

“This sergeant is searching for something edible.” Rio declares.

It makes both members of Mad Trigger Crew freeze instantly.

“If it’s no trouble, would you care to help?”

Samatoki and Jyuto exchange quick looks.

“W-We’re not hangry, Rio.” Samatoki spits out, slinging an arm around the dirty cop’s shoulders.

“Y-Yeah. There’s no need to hunt to settle our non-existent fury.” Jyuto’s smile twitches on his face at the strength Samatoki’s squeezing his shoulder with. He adjusts his glasses and discretely pinches his fingers into Samatoki’s waist. The fucktard…! It freaking _hurts_ …! “We’re just tousling a bit. You know, to prepare for our battle with Buster Bros. There’s not a thing out of the—” Jyuto’s smile falls completely for a moment. Samatoki smirks, keeping his hard pinch on that nice tight ass. “—n- _norm_ …”

Oh, there’s a gun poking into his back now. Nice. He jostles his box weapon into the law enforcer’s side warningly too.

“You know, I really do fucking hate you.” Jyuto whispers to him under his breath.

“Ho, is that so? I, on the contrary, am able to appreciate this ass of yours.” Samatoki sneers at the cop, twisting his fingers. There’s a sharp intake of breath, accompanied by a hissed threat from the cop.

“In that case, this sergeant is relieved.” Rio’s rising from his crouched position on the ground.

“Aw. Are we not having any of your round-and-fat rat dish again, Rio-san?” Fucktard from Shibuya said what-?!

“Not today, I’m afraid. This sergeant has some fried crickets here as snacks, if you want.”

“Yay~!”

Samatoki almost wishes he’s back home in Yokohama with those two guys. At least those guys make more sense than the ones around here. (Each and every one of them, able to take in Rio’s fucked up food. Hell, even that weakling of a salaryman was able to stomach the ‘Lavendar Juice’. Samatoki’s beginning to think he’s not the normal one here.)

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe this.” Tsuna facepalms. “Are we really doing this?”

“Let’s go.” Lal’s calling for them.

“Wait a moment! Just let me wear my shoes properly!”

A muscular hand reaches down and picks him up like a potato sack.

“Forget shoes.” Xanxus growls. He’s wearing make-up, fake long lashes, has his long hair usually smoothed back now extended and drooping limply over his shoulders to his chest in long wild waves. And Tsuna still has his breath stolen when he peers over and see how beautiful – _g-gorgeous_ – his husband looks. “You were the fucking scum who kept worrying over how he’s doing. Let’s just get going.”

“W-Wait-!” Tsuna squeaks.

“What _now_.” Even Lal’s tapping on her arm impatiently.

“I-I think I’ve left my breasts in Samatoki’s room.”

 _God._ Never did Tsuna think he’d one day say such a thing.

 

* * *

 

Crossing the boundaries into Chuuouku – the prefecture of women and heart of Japan - as far as he was concerned, was no trouble. Tsuna’s body language is feminine enough. Their appearances are as feminine as one can be. Tsuna mentally sends his thanks to the mist jewellery Chrome had made them to cover up their masculinity. (Not that, and he laments this, he needs any covering. He pretty much had his eyes opened to reality the first time Haru and Kyoko fussed over the smoothness of his skin, the slenderness of his limbs, the size of his waist _urgh._ )

Xanxus makes a good woman, and Tsuna momentarily finds himself appreciating the double-standards for different genders – like oh god, he’s actually able to hook arms with Xanxus here without getting any weird looks. He’s actually able to kiss him on the cheek – oh, or maybe that’s pushing it a little. They still have it laxer though, since Xanxus is Italian. Tsuna receives a good hard smack on the head from Lal and a prompt jab at the stage and hiss to “Don’t lose focus.”

(Can you really blame him? His husband’s just there, standing in a dress, with tights on and looking oh-so-gorgeous-)

Tsuna sneaks in a kiss on Xanxus’ lips. (And receives another warning glare from Lal.)

 

* * *

 

The fucking peppy guy has turned a fucking 180 from the snivelling bastard after putting on a suit.

_What the fuck?!_

But oh. Well, whatever. That’s not the strangest Samatoki’s ever seen.

Eyeing the fucking Gigolo as he peeks out of the stage curtains, earning himself one loud round of squeals from the front seat women, then hastily pulled back by his wimp of a salaryman friend, Samatoki scoffs and prepares himself for an actual rap battle out there. Gigolo and – what’s his MC name again? – Doppo were probably chosen on the account of their “interestingness”, rather than actual rapping skill. Sensei’s always been fucking weird about that kind of stuff. On the opposite end, Ramuda’s team has turned out to be full of weirdos too, even though the Shrimp probably wasn’t aiming for that.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise!” Gigolo gasps. (Samatoki’s still weirded out though. If this was the previous him, Gigolo would be fucking shaking on his knees, hiding at the corner furthest away from women.) “Did you see, Doppo my dear friend?! Just now, right at the centre, there was two of my lovely kittens who pecked each other!”

“W-What-?”

Fucking 'ryman drops his water like the wimp he is, jaw hanging open pathetically.

“T-That’s probably not meant for you to see-!” He struggles like usual to pull Gigolo back. “Oh, we’ve got to apologize to them if we run into them…!” He fusses, an obvious nerve wreck.

“It would be a pleasant surprise if we run into them.” Gigolo’s eyes crinkle with pleasure.

Samatoki decides he hates the fucking womanizer after all.

“I would love to give them my contact details to see them at my job-!”

“Hifumi, stop it already!” Doppo tugs on Gigolo’s suit jacket.

“You two.” Sensei calls them. “Do remember to warm up your voice.”

“Y-Yes!”/ “Of course!”

Samatoki sighs as he breathes in the familiar air. It’s been a long fucking while since he last stood on a proper stage, had a proper division battle. Sensei’s long contemplative glance from the other corner of this backstage seems to say he understands. Samatoki knows those two others on the other side of the backstage must be feeling the same.

Momentarily, as he looks down at his skull-shaped mic, Samatoki remembers the last stage he’s taken. …No. His lips twitches upwards. (A perplexed look is sent at him from Sensei.) Actually, it’s not been too fucking long after all. The last one he had may had been a drunken farce of 100-on-1 at the Vongola’s fucked up party, but that was one too. That’s the actual first in a long time he’s able to go all-out on someone, without fearing the repercussions of using his flames.

“…You guys.” Samatoki calls out, knowing even without looking that Jyuto and Rio would be listening. “Don’t use your flames. They’re just civvies.” That’s not a strict law, but it is the basic for those of their world to upkeep.

(Those three musketeers in Buster Bros are all civvies. Matenrou are civvies. Fling Posse are civvies. The only ones who are not are him, Jyuto, Rio, and most likely, Ramuda – that little awakened mist. Samatoki has always known he’s hiding something under that front of his.)

Samatoki looks up. He meets Sensei’s gaze unyieldingly. And just a bit, blue eyes widen, and a ghost of a smile comes to his face. (Sensei had always loved using his rap to heal rather than to crush.)

“Such a thing… It obviously goes without saying.” Jyuto snaps.

“Understood.” Rio agrees quietly, the way he always does.

Things are perfect with these guys.

He doesn’t feel like he’s going to lose.

(Now, if only those two bastards could be here to see him kick the ass of his past. How good would _that_ be?)

 

* * *

 

Tsuna wonders when they’ll come on stage. He feels his heart leaping, waiting for Samatoki to come out. Then, when the emcee does announce the arrival of the teams, Tsuna finds himself shrinking back in his seat.

_“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”_

Half of it is due to the fangirls. Holy mother of all fucking hells. Because everywhere around them, there’re _fangirls_.

Tsuna’s clinging onto Xanxus openly, whimpering. (Nightmares. Too many nightmares being recalled all at once. Valentines. Marriage Interviews. Stalkers. Juliet-wannabes. Famiglias. _Reborn._ ) Xanxus’ grip around his shoulder is tight too, red eyes wide with what Tsuna can unreservedly call ‘ _fear_ ’. He has more than his own share of nightmares from his childhood combined with a father who more than wants to call someone his ‘grandchild’. (Guess ‘pop’ goes that dream. And by his own heir's hands too.)

Then, the emcee’s introducing the members of _‘MAD TRIGGER CREW’_ and ‘ _BUSTER BROS’_.

From the left, there’s Yamada Saburo, age 14 and youngest participant of the whole thing. MC Name: Little Brother.

For a moment, Tsuna almost relates to him, being forced into such a position at such a young age – except, of course, Little Brother pulls his eyelid down at the crowd and sticks his tongue out. He decides Saburo’s an older version of Lambo, except Lambo wouldn’t be like that at 14.

Then from the right, there’s Busujima Mason Rio – the militaryman of the other day! MC Crazy M.

“The M must stand for Military.” Tsuna ponders amidst the sparkling lights of the stage.

“For all you know, it could be ‘masochist’.” Xanxus points out, pulling away Tsuna’s ‘long’ brown locks onto one shoulder. Tsuna shudders, remembering the way that man smiled fondly at Lambo.

“Let’s not entertain that thought.” His life’s already full of sexual innuendos as it is.

Next up, from the team of Buster Bros, there’s Yamada Jiro, age 17, another heterochromic boy with green and yellow. MC Middle Bro.

“They lack originality.” Xanxus huffs. Tsuna wonders what it means to be agreeing to that, considering all his guardians have too much individuality as it is.

And then, from the right, there’s the corrupt policeman who blackmailed his way onto Samatoki’s team. Iruma Jyuto, MC 45Rabbit. A sudden flash of something comes to Tsuna’s mind. He gasps. So Samatoki _had_ tried to threaten him before!

“What’s wrong, Scum.” Xanxus looks down at him.

“Nothing. It’s just the usual.” Tsuna offers a twitching smile.

Let bygones be bygones right? It’s not like any of his friends right now haven’t threatened either him or themselves before they got to where they are right now.  (…He’s _really_ long overdue for a reconsideration of his acquaintances.)

Finally, there’s Yamada Ichiro, the supposedly previous Brat, who Samatoki seemed so estranged with. Peering up at him from where he’s sitting, Tsuna doesn’t know what to think. On one hand, there’s that sky part of him screaming for revenge. On the other, he has never been one to judge others just by what he heard. And the teen standing up there, with red and green eyes, (MC Big Brother) hardly seems one to antagonize Samatoki for no reason. (He’s a sky too, Tsuna realizes absently.)

He decides to withhold his opinion for now. (Not, he decides, that it’ll remain the same if Samatoki’s hurt.)

Then Samatoki’s up.

Standing at the top of the sparkling stage with that Hayato-esque mic in his hand, a smothering grin on his face, red eyes directed forward and white locks blazing, Samatoki looks like he’s where he belongs – onstage. It’s not unlike Kyoya with his battlefields, Takeshi with his restaurants, Hayato with his library. He’s genuinely at home there onstage, battling it out with words.

Tsuna finds a smile sliding onto his lips at the sight of him, so free.

It's then that the emcee announces his MC name.

_“Let's welcome…… MR. HARDCORE!”_

Tsuna bursts out laughing against his will. And whilst the laughing’s horrid enough, Xanxus’ _more_ booming laughter penetrates the thick of the crowd and – thank god for Chrome’s illusion necklaces, or his manly laughter would already be giving them away.

“Mr Hardcore she said…! Mr Hardcore…!” Tsuna’s gasping for breath, bowed over from waist down.

“Hardcore! Fucking Hardcore!” Xanxus throws his head back, struggling to take in breaths between his quietened laughs. He’s laughing so hard, not even his voice could come. Then, he calms down to take a long fucking breath. And bursts out laughing all over again. “Why _the fuck_ hasn’t he joined us in a threesome till now if he’s so fucking _Hardcore_?!” He sniggers at the use of the word.

“I don’t – Xan – Please, I don’t—!”

Tsuna collapses from his bench, holding onto the wood with tears streaming down his face.

There’re plenty of girls around them giving them weird looks. But _holy shit_.

Xanxus, spare him of the laughter, please.

“I wonder what fucking Hardcore things he’s capable of issuing in the bedroom.” Xanxus sneers, a smirk more like a grin plastered over his face. “He mentioned he’s only interested in a gangbang, right?! We should definitely create one someday just to see what fucking _hardcore_ —” He snorts. “—things he’s capable of doing.”

“I-I can’t disagree for once.” Tsuna chuckles, wasted and breathless as he leans against his bench. He still can’t gather his breath to stand up yet.

“Should I take that as you volunteering Varia?” Lal suggests, a smirk on her face and amusement in her eyes. Tsuna had momentarily forgotten her presence. Until her horrifying idea anyways.

“No- no way-!” He gasps for air.

“Why not?” Xanxus grins. “If that Scum’s capable of topping that fucking Shark – hell, if he’s capable of topping _Levi_ – then he’s got to be fucking Hardcore. Or just fucking hardboiled.” Tsuna chokes on yet another helpless huff, not knowing what to reply. That line of logic has definitely got to be strained somewhere, and yet, he can’t find a single flaw-!

“It’s about to begin.” Lal points out, folding her arms.

Tsuna weakly climbs back onto the bench, helped by Xanxus holding onto his collar.

“The battle between Buster Bros and Mad Trigger Crew.” She says.

Tsuna readies himself for the battle that’s sure to blow them away. Him and Xanxus are both active flame users, so they’re virtually unaffected by the rap of dormant flame users. But nevertheless, this is the battle between two divisions of Japan. A fight for territory between Ikebukuro and Yokohama…! A battle between Big Brother and-…!

Tsuna buries his face helpless into Xanxus’ shoulder, a last weak huff of air escaping him.

Mr Hardcore! Really?

 

* * *

 

They go up there. They rap. They get down and the results are to be announced another day. It’s how it is, Chuuouku making things harder than they have to be. They want those not at the live to be able to vote too.

“Thanks for your hard work!” Says a random girl as she sashays up to him when he’s backstage.

Samatoki takes on look at that shade of brown and the smile biting back laughter and he smacks _him_ over the head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, fucking Brat?!”

Brat dissolves into immediate laughter.

“Mr Hardcore… _Mr Hardcore!_ Good work out there, Mr Hardcore!” He’s overusing his MC name, damn it.

Samatoki takes him by the collar of his dress. Drags him up towards himself.

“Do you want me to fuck the ever-living hell out of you, huuuuh?!” He growls in the Brat’s face.

“I’m sorry!” Tsuna cries out. Then, he’s snickering again. “ _Mr Hardcore_.”

Samatoki drops him.

“I hate you.” He decides, rubbing his temples.

“HIIH! You’re the girl I saw kissing another girl out there!” Cries out Gigolo – Wimp Version – when he returns from his fucking rap battle. He lost his jacket at some point. The weather’s too fucking hot out there for a full set of suit either ways. Gigolo jumps behind Doppo, whimpering. “D-Don’t come _near_!”

“E-Eh? What?” The Brat blinks.

“Fuck off.” Samatoki grumbles to Gigolo. The guy had more balls when he wasn’t around women. He turns to eye the Brat, hand reaching up without thinking to pull apart that cheeky face. “And you! Who the hell told you to follow me? I thought I’d already told you not to come!”

“It hurts, Samatoki-san… I came because I was worried about you!” The Brat grumbles.

Orange bleeds into brown for a second. His eyes flicker to the other side of the stage, where Chuuouku had knowingly separated both their groups in anticipation of such fights. Samatoki smacks him over the head another time just for that. (As much as he hates it, there’s that tell-tale sign of warmth in his heart. Fuck. Fuck him for making Samatoki soft. Even though he’s supposed to be Mr Hardcore too.)

“O-Oi…! You shouldn’t be rough with women…!” Doppo tries to step in.

“Look carefully.” Samatoki scoffs. “This one’s got one attached down there.”

“Wha…?!” The wimpy salaryman’s jaw hangs open again. His line of sight goes down at once – fucking pervert.

“Huh? What~! So you’re a man in disguise! That sure scared me!” And flipping batshit Gigolo is back to his usual sassy self without women around. That one’s flipping more often than a television does with channels.

“B-But you look-!” And that other one’s broken this time.

“Now, now, Doppo! Just take it as it is! Afterall, _I’m_ not scared out of my mind here, am I?” Gigolo slams his hand roughly into the salaryman’s back. Samatoki would say his stance is highly questionable, especially with how quickly he changes. Nevertheless, the Brat – being the all kind and saintly little shit he is – decides to help out by leaning down into the salaryman’s line of sight, smiling kindly.

“I’ve cross-dressed to get in here. It’s not like men could easily walk into Chuuouku, right?” He _smiles_. And the salaryman looks dazzled.

“I-I… er…” Doppo falters.

“Don’t charm others when you’ve got a husband, Brat.” Samatoki cuffs the brat around the head, revelling in the way the salaryman’s jaw drops even further. “Speaking of which, he’s around here too, ain’t he? Rope him in so we can all get home together. I don’t wanna pay for separate rides when we can all just get into that dirty cop’s car.”

“…Unfortunately, I’m not interested in gangbangs, Mr Hardcore.” The Brat smiles.

What the shit-?! Samatoki chokes on his spit. (Doppo’s jaw is hanging so loose, it’s practically on the ground.)

“Ah, but Xanxan-chan is arranging one for you at the moment!” The Brat claps his hands together. “One with Varia, to test your hardcoreness!”

Samatoki wheezes, feeling like he’s been dealt the death blow from the back.

“You…” Samatoki falls to his knees, legs already having been trembling from Yamada Ichiro. “You sure…grew one, didn’t you?” Even though he looks the most girly he’s ever looked too.

Tsuna pulls out his buzzing phone.

“Ah, it seems like the arcobaleno are interested too!” He beams as he shares the news.

“Fu…ck.”

As he thought, dresses are the scariest. See what happened to the Brat after he put on one? He grew the biggest, toughest balls Samatoki had ever faced.

 

* * *

 

Several meetings occur.

It’s all in the process of getting Samatoki back home.

 

* * *

 

For instance: Red and green heterochromic eyes flicker past Tsuna’s. It’s not quite a meeting. But Tsuna sees the pain in those eyes when Yamada Ichiro turns away and retreats back to his own side of the stage.

 

* * *

 

In another instant, Tsuna bumps into a mist that’s not exactly a mist; a sky that’s not exactly a sky.

“Sorry~☆!” The flame-active pink haired man, Amemura Ramuda, hops away.

“Why?” Tsuna questions, smile dropping from his lips in the marked face of sincerity. The pink haired man pauses in his steps, back turned to Tsuna’s, allowed to make whatever expressions he wants besides that own forced smile of his. “Why didn’t you try to harmonize with them? Even though it would have improved everything in an instance. Even though you could have fixed them in an instance. Then Samatoki-san wouldn’t have to be edged to the brink the way he is by that half-formed bond with Ichiro-san…”

He finally understands, why Samatoki was so attached to Yamada Ichiro. The bond was half-complete on his side owing to his active flames. All it would have taken is a flare from this guy – Amemura Ramuda – to completely awaken Ichiro and make that bond complete. And yet…

“Haha~♡!” Ramuda laughs, plopping his lollipop back between his teeth. “Not everything is so ideal in a world like this, little Sky~!” His words are wistful.

“Besides~!” Tsuna is unsurprised by the way Ramuda pops up beside him. The pink haired man winks. “If everything can be fixed up by flames in an instance, there really wouldn’t be any meaning to what we have to begin with, right?”

Deep meanings behind simple words and a childish front.

The man spins on his heels and skips off, casting a long shadow with his childish form.

“…Well.” Tsuna smiles as he heads off on his own path.

Ramuda has a point about that, if nothing else. 

 

* * *

 

And amongst those, there are some more pleasant meetings:

 

* * *

 

“You are Sawada Tsunayoshi.” Jyuto states to the familiar features before him, soft and dainty.

“Pleased to see you again, Jyuto-san.” Vongola Decimo smiles brightly up at him, as if he’s pleased to see him. Jyuto isn’t sure what to think of him. “And thank you for helping us out last time!”

A reformatory Mafia Boss is thanking a corrupt cop for his services. Jyuto wonders what the world has come to.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for taking care of my house’s Lambo.” Says the man who Samatoki has faith in. “Lambo told me he promised he’d let you join his family if you helped him last time. Unfortunately, I can’t grant him his promise since that’d be detrimental to your health and sanity.” He smiles apologetically. “But do call us at any time and we’ll come to your help.”

“…This sergeant sees you’re already helping.” Rio eyes the unconscious Samatoki who’s cursing a storm up even in his sleep on that other man’s back. (Something about wretched dresses and skirts?)

“It’s nothing.” Sawada smiles, eyeing Samatoki fondly. “Let’s all go back home. To _Yokohama._ ”

 

* * *

 

Everyone has worked hard. Tsuna looks at Samatoki. Especially this chaotic Storm of his.

"F-Fuck. Don't let them take me back, Rio." Samatoki whispers, thinking Tsuna can't hear.

"Why is that?" The sergeant questions.

"They say not to stick your dick in crazy." Samatoki states, looking haunted. 

"...I'm sorry. This sergeant doesn't get the joke. Is that a reference to me?" 

Samatoki chokes.

"Why the fuck is that the first thing you think?!"

Ah, sweet revenge in all its simplicity.

 

* * *

XXV. Peace

* * *

 

Times are peaceful. It should be peaceful, following the announcement of Mad Trigger Crew’s victory. Tsuna should be pleased, to be celebrating this occasion with them on the very last day of their honeymoon.

And yet…

“…What…is this?” Tsuna eyes the thing before him.

Samatoki, who’d been shaking his head in exaggerated ‘ _NO!_ ’ motions since Rio arrived at their door with a pale-looking Jyuto, looks utterly resigned to their fates. Beside him, Jyuto has already proceeded a step ahead of them and is well on his way to heaven. No, really. His eyes are entirely white in a way Tsuna’s painfully familiar with. (Reborn.) And he still hasn’t even taken a single mouth of the food.

“Balut, huh.” Xanxus scoffs, a smirk spreading across his lips (WHY?!) as he eyes the bird-shaped embryos lying in their cracked shells. He huffs. “You’ve prepared quite the delicacy for us.”

“Help yourself to as much as you like.” Rio lays down the final dish. “In consideration of this special occasion, this sergeant has prepared some monkey brains and live cobra hearts. I recommend the later to be swallowed whole while the blood is still warm.”

Samatoki chokes on his breath.

Tsuna is not that far off behind.

And Rio turns to glance at the already off-ed Jyuto, seemingly determined to beat down the dead horse who’s already knocking on heaven’s doors.

“Also, bearing in mind Jyuto’s advice from last time to use less exotic ingredients, this sergeant has prepared some haggis from the rabbits I’ve caught.”

45Rabbit twitches. That’s about as much of a response as they’re going to get.

“…”

WHY.

Tsuna begins knocking his head against a tree branch. He wonders why he ran all the way from the North Pole to Japan. Why there’s not an inch on Earth that exists sanity. Why he’s just bound to encounter this kind of people. God. Why is there a Bianchi-double here? Why does he look so freaking _innocent_? WHY?!

“Knocking yourself out won’t help, Brat.” Samatoki covers his mouth as if holding back the urge to retch. “Just scruff it down, or you’ll wake up to the same thing over and over again.” Red eyes seem to be tearing just a bit as he looks away. Is he saying from experience?!

“Samatoki-san…” Tsuna suddenly understands him more than ever in that moment.

Samatoki smiles resignedly at him.

Then the yakuza’s taking the cop by the shoulders, jabbing spoonfuls of haggis down his throat.

“Stuff it all down while he’s still out! Make it as fucking easy as possible for yourself!”

“Are you a demon?!” Tsuna cries.

Such is the peace of one Sawada Tsunayoshi. Whether he’s in Yokohama or in Italy, some things just never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1](https://mobile.twitter.com/mrmr_dvs/status/973621754634448896):古物商 [2](http://gall.dcinside.com/mgallery/board/view/?id=hypnosismic&no=7152) [3](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c7/cc/77/c7cc7771392c178924d7bc131c7185ae.png) [4](https://mobile.twitter.com/rskh23/status/1012664019465822210/photo/1https://mobile.twitter.com/rskh23/status/1012664019465822210/photo/1):綺麗だよ…薫… [5](https://mobile.twitter.com/2tanko2/status/997466802727731200):芝生@原稿中 [6](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e2/ed/2e/e2ed2e91dd985c626697ef6ddc6caef7.jpg) 
>     
>     
>     Haggis is a dish containing the sheep's liver, heart, and lungs, in case you're unaware. It's encased in the stomach of said sheep and simmered for texture.
> 
> And... That's it! That's the end of this story! Honestly, I think we've reached the pinnacle of this story. I think I might have exhausted KHR's supply of fanfiction readers who're open to fandoms they don't know. There's probably little to no Hypmic fans reading this, which I really should be used to now ಥ◡ಥ , but well, I'm glad if I've made hypmic fans out of you -- or if there're people who enjoyed this story! (Not that I know how it's like enjoying a crossover without knowing both fandoms. I looked through Mistext multiple times picturing myself in your shoes. I would have tapped out 600 words in. You guys are really impressive to have bore with me for so long.)
> 
> Thank you all for your support! Special thanks to people like _Shouhei, fatealitheia, wraven881, flickers_to_flames, LucyWonderLandMadness, Writing_Frenzy_ (and others! Please don't feel left out!) who continuously commented through all my chapters. I really don't know what I would have done without you guys. ╥﹏╥ And also, all those who've bookmarked, subscribed, kudos, double-kudos-ed, triple-kudos-ed, or in general just commented. I highly doubt I'd have continued this story without a single one of you guys doing that. This is no exaggeration. (Just look at my comments with wraven881. They're evidence enough.)
> 
> PS. For those who've commented on the deleted Chapter 4 (you know who you are), do indicate if you mind me 'gifting' that deleted chapter to you. I honestly don't know even just from having kudos. I'm a bit dumb that way.
> 
> PSS. **Do leave a comment/something** (kudos would be nice but we're at the pinnacle. There's prolly nobody here who's new. Bookmarks are nice too, but you guys prolly are dropping this story since it's ended. Subscriptions too.) **to tell me you've read to the end of this chapter!** ಥ◡ಥ Well, I already know only 10% of readers here are from Hypmic and only ~5% will read to the end though.
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!

**Author's Note:**

> 
>     Do note the next work in the series is just the deleted scene of XVI. aka. Previous C4 of 6 Chapters. Proceed at your own risk.


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